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PRI-:SKNTJ£0 BY 




A. J. Leach. 



EARLY DAY 

STORIES 



We Overland Trail 

Animals and Birds that Lived Here 

Hunting Stories 

Looking Backward 



Second 
Edition 



By A. J. LEACH 






Press of 
HUSE PUBLISHING CO. 

Norfolk, Neb. 






Preiatory^ 



This book is descriptive, historical, instructive, truth- 
ful. 

It is a safe book for the young people. 

It is intended to be an interesting book for the old 
people. 

These stories are drawn from the personal experiences 
of the author, during a trip across Nebraska, and west- 
ward over the mountains to the Pacific coast in the year 
1852, and from a residence in Nebraska since May 16, 
1867. 

It is a book of frontier stories taken from actual life. 

These stories were first printed in the county news- 
papers, with no thought of having them published in book 
form. They met with so much favor that it was determined 
to send them forth in a bound volume. 

Here it is. 

A. J. LEACH. 
Oakdale, Nebraska, March 13, 1916. 



Contents 



Chapter Page 
I Ignorance of Nebraska History — A Great Thor- 
oughfare — The Different Starting Points — The 
Overland Stage — Marked by Graves Along the 
Route 9 

II Start from Home in Genesee County, Mich. — Jour- 
ney on Foot to La Salle, 111. — Down the Illinois 
River to St. Louis — Up the Missouri to St. Jos- 
eph — Hire Out to Drive Team — Journey With Ox 
Team from St. Joseph to Sarpy's Landing 14 

III Crossing the Missouri — Camp Where Bellevue Now 

Stands— Gather Wild Strawberries May 28, 1852 
— Start West on the Journey from the Missouri 
May 29, 1852— Join Capt. Well's Train— Cross 
the Elkhom River 22 

IV Halted by a Band of Pawnees at Shell Creek — Pay 

Toll for Crossing the Creek — Cross Loup Fork 
Near the Present Site of Genoa 29 

V From Loup Fork to Wood River — Buffalo Chips — 
Lone Tree— The First Buffalo Hunt— Flagging 
Antelope 35 

VI The Journey up the Platte Valley — Hunting Moun- 
tain Sheep— Talk With a Sioux Indian— The 
Buffalo Hunt 43 

VII Incidents of the Journey — Out on the Trail Over 

Night — The Dogs and the Wolves 49 

VIII The Cholera— Death of Hosea Ballou— The Story 

of Mrs. Knapp and Her Baby 56 

IX Four Young Men Leave the Train and Go On Afoot 
— Arrival at the Dalles — Trip Down the Colum- 
bia — ^Arrive at Oregon City 62 



Chapter Page 

X Wild Animals and Birds that Lived Here 70 

XI Wild Animals and Birds that Lived Here — Cont 77 

XII Wild Animals and Birds that Lived Here — Con- 
cluded 86 

XIII Hunting Stories— Antelope— White-tail Deer— Elk 94 

XIV Hunting Elk and Deer in Wheeler and Garfield 

Counties 102 

XV Hunting Elk and Deer in Custer County Ill 

XVI A Summer Hunt 119 

XVII Hunting Near Home 126 

XVIII Hunting and Camping Lore 135 

XIX A Hunting Trip to Wyoming 141 

XX A Hunting Trip to Wyoming — Continued 150 

XXI A Hunting Trip to Wyoming — Concluded 158 

XXII The Black Hills 166 

XXIII Two Black Hills Bear Stories. No. 1— No. 2 171 

XXIV Hunting Stories and Habits of the Wild Animals.... 181 

XXV Hunting Stories and Habits of Wild Animals — 

Continued 187 

XXVI Hunting Stories and Habits of Wild Animals — 

Concluded 194 

XXVII Hunting Stories— Lying in Wait for Game 200 

XXVIII Hunting Stories — Lying in Wait for Game — Con- 
cluded 208 

XXIX Hunting Stories— Hunting Without a Gun 215 

XXX Hunting Stories— My Last Big Hunt in Wheeler 

and Garfield Counties 223 

XXXI Looking Backward. No. 1 231 

XXXII Looking Backward. No. 2 239 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 



CHAPTER I. 

Ignorance of Nebraska History — A Great Thoroughfare — 
The Different Starting Points — The Overland Stage — 
Marked by Graves Along the Route. 

This story is written chiefly for the young people, but 
it may interest also the older ones, some of whom possibly 
may have a dim and shadowy remembrance of events de- 
scribed herein, or of the persons who took part in these 
events, and who helped to make them a part of the history 
of our state and country. 

There is much ignorance among our young people, 
and the older ones as well, about the early history of the 
state of Nebraska. The reason is that this history is not 
found in full in our books, nor taught in our schools. Im- 
portant events that transpired in the early days, and that 
left a lasting impress upon the destinies of our state are 
either entirely overlooked or have received only mere men- 
tion in such records as have been kept. Had these events 
happened in New England or New York or Virginia in 
colonial times there would have been a record made of them, 
and they would have become a part of the history of our 
country, and would be as familiar to our school boys and 
girls of today as are the stories of Pocahontas, of Red Jack- 
et, and of Osceola. 

If you will take one of our modern large dictionaries 
and turn to the list of proper names, you will easily find 
such names as Pocahontas, Powhatan, Red Jacket, Osce- 
ola, Tecumseh, Pontiac, Black Hawk and many others who 
flourished in the early days of our nation, but in some of 
them, at least, you will look in vain for the name of Black- 
bird or Red Cloud or Spotted Tail or Sitting Bull, or any 



10 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

of the great Indian warriors of more recent times. We 
have become a great people — wonderful discoveries are con- 
stantly being made — great events are happening, one right 
after the other, and these things all claim our attention, so 
that we have little time to give thought to matters of early 
history, and yet these things should not be neglected nor 
forgotten. 

Before there was a railroad west of the Mississippi 
river, the country then known as Nebraska territory had 
the greatest thoroughfare of the kind ever known in histor- 
ical times. This was the Overland Trail, starting at first 
from Independence, Missouri, and afterward from West- 
port, Missouri, (now Kansas City), with branches from St. 
Joseph, Missouri, from Leavenworth, Kansas, and from 
Nebraska City, Nebraska, these Hues all converging on the 
south side of the Platte nearly opposite Grand Island, the 
route continued on west through Nebraska to Denver, Salt 
Lake, Oregon and California. On the north side of the 
Platte river was another prong of this great highway that 
crossed the Missouri at Sarpy's Landing, (now Bellevue), 
and also at Kanesville, (now Council Bluffs), and these two 
uniting at the crossing of the Elkhorn river passed up the 
valley on the north side of the Platte, going directly through 
the places where now stand the cities of Fremont, Columbus 
and Grand Island. These two roads, one on the north, 
and one on the south side of the Platte, united near Fort 
Laramie in Wyoming and continued on west as one thor- 
oughfare, but divided again farther west, one branch going 
to Oregon and one to California, with still a third and 
shorter one to Salt Lake. 

On the 7th day of May, 1859, gold was discovered in 
Colorado. Prior to this date Colorado was unsettled and un- 
known. There were a few traders and trappers within its 
borders, and possibly a few settlers of Mexican lineage in 
the extreme southern part, but as a whole it was a wilder- 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 11 

ness, unoccupied excepting by wild animals and scattered 
bands of Indians. This finding of gold gave great impetus 
to the travel through Nebraska, tens of thousands of peo- 
ple passing over the road in covered wagons, many of the 
wagons bearing the legend 'Tikes Peak or bust." 

When this overland trail first came into use about the 
year 1840 but to a greater extent by 1843, it was used 
chiefly by emigrants to Oregon, and later to California and 
still later by the Mormons on their journey to Utah. 

After the discovery of gold in Colorado a vast amount 
of freighting was done over the road, one firm, that of Rus- 
sell, Majors and Waddell, it is claimed had about $2,000,000 
invested in the business, employing 6,000 teamsters, and 
working 45,000 oxen besides many horses and mules. Be- 
fore the building of the U. P. Railroad, the freighting and 
emigrant travel had assumed enormous proportions. There 
was also a stage line carrying the United States mail and 
passengers. At first in 1850 there was a stage each way 
once a month — in 1857 it was increased to a weekly, and 
in 1861 to a daily service. The fare by stage from Mis- 
souri river points was $75 to Denver, $150 to Salt Lake, 
and $225 to Placerville, Calif. 

When these two trails were first traveled — one on the 
north and one on the south side of the Platte river, each 
one consisted of a single wagon road, and the travel was 
almost entirely of wagons drawn by ox teams, there being 
from two to four yoke of oxen to each covered wagon ; the 
wagons following one directly behind the other, thus form- 
ing only a single track or road. Along the left side of the 
road was a plain foot path made by the drivers. As the 
traffic increased over the road other tracks were made par- 
allel with the first one, so that by the year 1860 there were 
five or six parallel tracks a few feet apart, meandering 
along up the Platte valley, and so on over the mountains 



12 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

to Utah and the Pacific coast. Before the railroad was 
built, this was the great highway connecting the East with 
the West. Over it passed tens of thousands of emigrants 
to Oregon, California, Utah and Colorado, and hundreds 
of thousands of tons of freight, in the form of machinery, 
tools, provisions, grain, feed and merchandise of all kinds 
needed in Colorado and Utah. Nothing like it was ever 
seen before either in ancient or modern times, and never 
will be seen again. There were two other routes to Colo- 
rado — one called the Arkansas valley route through southern 
Kansas, and the other the Smoky Hill route through cen- 
tral Kansas, but both of these together had only a small 
fraction of the travel that passed through Nebraska over 
the Oregon and California trails. This trail is now entirely 
obliterated almost everywhere in the central and eastern 
parts of the state, where the land is arable and has been 
put in cultivation, but as one goes west where there is more 
waste land it is yet plainly marked by several parallel tracks, 
deeply indented in the soil but almost everywhere over- 
grown with buffalo grass. A few years ago the writer 
examined the trail in Scotts Bluff county just west of 
Gehring. Here the trail passes over the low divide separ- 
ating the northern from the southern part of the Scotts 
Bluff Hills or mountains as they should properly be called. 
The old trail as it passes up the slope on the eastern side, 
and so on through the gap, is still used for a wagon road 
today, but as it goes down the steeper western slope, it is 
gullied out by the rains into parallel ravines from five to 
fifteen feet deep. On the north side of the river, through 
an almost level pasture field the four or five parallel tracks 
were cut down into the hard, gravelly soil five or six inches, 
but all covered over with buffalo and gramma grass. 

On both sides of the Platte river, and so on west along 
the whole course, clear through to Oregon and California, 
these trails were marked by the graves of those who had 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 13 

dropped out by the way. Some of these graves were un- 
marked — some were marked by a slab or board only, with 
the name and age and date cut with a knife, or burned in 
with a hot iron ; and at the head and foot of others a rough 
stone was placed without inscription. Very few, indeed, 
of these graves can be located today, although there are 
thousands of them. Perhaps the only one that is known 
in the eastern part of the state is in Jefferson county, five 
miles northwest of Fairbury; this has for a headstone a 
large sandstone slab, on which is chiseled the following: 
"George Winslow, Newton, Mass." And on the footstone, 
"1849." As one goes west where the soil is harder other 
graves can be found, but generally, the markings, if there 
were any have perished. About two miles east of the village 
of Scotts Bluff is a well preserved and well marked grave 
that was visited by the writer a few years ago and in which 
he took great interest because it was made probably only 
about a month after he had passed along the route driving 
four yoke of oxen. This grave was marked by a wagon 
tire which had been cut and the ends driven into the earth 
so as to form a bow over the head of the grave. On this 
was cut with a cold chisel, "Rebecca Winters — aged 50 
years. Died Aug. 15, 1852." A short distance south of 
the grave were the deep indentations in the earth, still 
plainly visible made by the wheels of thousands of wagons 
more than fifty years ago. In the year 1902 — the centen- 
nial year of the birth of Mrs. Winters, her grandchildren 
placed an enduring stone monument properly inscribed at 
the head of this grave, leaving also the wagon tire with the 
original inscription in place. 



14 EARLY DAY STORIES. 



CHAPTER II. 

Start from Home in Genesee County, Mich. — Journey on 
Foot to LaSalle, 111. — Down the Illinois River to St. 
Louis — Up the Missouri to St. Joseph — Hire Out to 
Drive Team — Journey With Ox Team from St. Jos- 
eph to Sarpy's Landing. 

This and seven following chapters will be mostly a 
record of the writer's personal experiences on a journey 
from central Michigan to Sarpy's Landing (now Bellevue, 
Neb.) ; and thence over the Overland Trail to the Pacific 
coast during the spring and summer of 1852. It is given 
for the purpose of making it clear and plain to the readers 
of the present time, how things looked in the western coun- 
try at that early date, and how people traveled in those 
days, and what opinions about this country were held at 
that time. The reader will be able to make his own com- 
parisons between things as they were then, and are now, 
and to draw his own conclusions. It is not expected that 
anything of very great importance will be recorded, there 
is nothing strange or wonderful to tell, but it is believed 
that the contrast between the past and the present will be 
wonderful to contemplate, and almost unbelievable, because 
of the changes that have taken place. In 1852 there was 
not a railroad west of the Mississippi river — Kansas City 
was a little village then called Westport — St. Paul and 
Minneapolis, if they existed at all, were mere "villages,'* 
and Omaha was not on the map. Western Iowa was a 
thinly settled frontier country, only partly surveyed, and 
was the extreme limit of civilization — it was the jumping 
off place on a journey to the west. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 15 

At the beginning of the year 1852, I was living near 
Flint, Genesee county, Mich., where I had lived since early 
boyhood — had never been anywhere else since I was a small 
child, and had no knowledge of any other place or country 
except from reading and from listening to the talk of 
others. At that time I was teaching a country school — the 
first I had ever taught, a four months' term, for twelve 
dollars per month, and ''board round." My cousin, Wesley 
G. Conant, about three years my senior, but also my chum 
and companion, was working in a cooper shop, making 
flour and pork barrels. We got the Oregon fever, and de- 
termined to start, as soon as my school closed in the spring, 
on the overland journey to Oregon. About the middle of 
April, 1852, we were ready. Our outfit consisted of a pony, 
valued at $30.00, our clothing, a rifle apiece, two or three 
pairs of blankets, a little tent just big enough for two to 
sleep under, a pack saddle, a big pair of canvas saddle bags, 
each side holding about a bushel, and between us a hundred 
dollars in money. My cousin had saved up fifty-five dol- 
lars at his trade, and when my school was out I received 
a district order for my whole wages, for forty-eight dollars 
for the four months work. There was no money on hand 
in the district and I sold the order for forty-five dollars in 
cash. 

Packing our clothing and a few small articles in the 
saddle bags, and placing this and all our other equipage 
on the back of the pony, we started for the Great West, 
on foot, leading the horse by the bridle. We were young, 
strong, well and happy. I would like to do it again. 

Going in a southwest direction we passed through such 
towns as Ann Arbor, Coldwater, Burr Oak and Sturgi<=;. 
Mich., Elkhart, South Bend and Michigan City, Ind., and 
Joliet and Ottawa, 111., leaving Chicago about thirty miles 
to the north of our course, and arriving early in May at 



16 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

La Salle, 111., at the head of navigation on the Illinois river. 
Could our young people of Antelope county now make such 
a journey, just as it was then, I believe that what would 
strike them as the strangest of all things along the journey, 
would be the farms cut up into little fields of from five to 
ten acres each, and all fenced with the old fashioned zigzag 
rail fence. Not a town that we passed through on this trip 
from home to La Salle, 111., was anything more than a fair 
sized village at that date, although some of them are large 
cities now. 

At La Salle we took passage on a river steamer to St. 
Louis, where we purchased provisions for the trip, consist- 
ing principally of flour, parched corn meal, bacon and beans. 
Parched meal was used because ordinary corn meal would 
not keep well on such a trip. We also laid in a supply of 
powder and lead, and a quantity of matches. Tea and 
cofifee we had no use for, and of sugar we took only a 
small supply. Peoria was the only city of any size we saw 
until we reached St. Louis. The city of St. Louis was a 
revelation to me. I had never been in a place half as large 
before. There were no railroads running into St. Louis 
then, but there was a wilderness of steam boats tied up to 
the quay, or coming in or going out, or receiving or dis- 
charging freight, the work being done by gangs of negro 
slaves. The streets along the river banks were paved with 
cobble stones, and the rattle of the wagons and trucks over 
these, the screeching of whistles and the hoarse coughing 
from the exhaust pipes of the steamboats, made a din and 
racket that was quite confusing to a green country boy from 
the backwoods of central Michigan. 

The trip from home to St. Louis had been on the 
whole very pleasant. As stated we led our pony all the 
way to La Salle, 111., and we also furnished our own pro- 
visions and did our own cooking, excepting that we bought 
our bread. I do not remember that we slept in a bed or 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 17 

ate at a table during the whole time. We slept in a house 
or barn, nearly every night, paying for the privilege, what- 
ever the charge might be which, if any, was always small. 
Sometimes when it was pleasant we slept in the little tent. 
There was a good deal of rainy weather and sometimes the 
roads were muddy, but generally we had a good time and 
at small cost. The trip down the Illinois by boat we thought 
very fine and enjoyed it much, as it was the first trip we 
had ever made on a river steamboat. The steamboat stop- 
ped at every town along the way to take on or discharge 
passengers or freight, and as we were going down stream, 
the boat always made a turn in landing so as to bring the 
bow of the boat up stream. This is always the way with a 
river steamboat, to land with the bow up stream. 

At St. Louis we shipped on another and much larger 
steamboat for St. Joseph, Mo., which was to be our starting 
point for the journey by the Overland Trail. Our boat was 
heavily loaded with passengers, wagons, mules, horses, oxen 
and supplies, all bound for Oregon or California. Among 
the passengers were man}^ women and children. The pas- 
sengers were mostly from Illinois with also quite a sprink- 
ling of emigrants from Missouri, Kentucky and Tennessee. 
Of course we took deck passage and fed ourselves, and we 
also had a bale of hay and some oats for the pony. Many 
of the emigrants had their wagons and supplies on board, 
but no stock of any kind, intending to buy oxen or mules 
on their arrival at St. Joseph. 

It was a tedious journey up the Missouri river. Many 
times the boat ran aground and had to back off down 
stream and seek a different and deeper channel. Some- 
times the boat would stick fast for two or three hours, and 
then spars had to be rigged as levers, and the force of the 
engine applied by means of ropes and pulleys to push it 
off the sand bar. At Westport, now Kansas City, a large 
number of passengers disembarked, and a great amount of 



18 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

freight was unloaded. These emigrants that got off at 
Westport, whether going to Oregon or California, would 
take the trail that run northwest from Westport, and would 
strike Nebraska on the south line of what is now Jeffer- 
son county, and the Platte a little west of Grand Island. 

At Westport while the boat was discharging freight 
a lot of the young men arranged a match to see who could 
jump the highest. The match was to be between the steer- 
age and cabin passengers. Two older men were chosen to 
hold a string at a certain height, gauged by notches cut in 
a pole ; this was gradually raised a notch higher each time 
until only my cousin Wesley was left to represent the steer- 
age, and a nice looking young gentleman dressed in black 
for the cabin passengers. The string had been gradually 
raised to about five feet — both contestants stripped to their 
shirts, pants and socks. Our friend from the cabin made 
his jump and cleared the string, then Wesley did the same, 
both apparently clearing it with ease. Wesley, however, 
declared he had done his best, and was willing to call the 
contest a draw. The other said he believed he could do 
one notch better. He tried it, cleared the string and won 
the game, but his black pants were split behind from the 
suspenders down. Covering the exposed part of his per- 
son with both hands, he hurried to the cabin without waiting 
to listen to the plaudits of the audience. 

A day or two later we arrived at St. Joseph where we 
unloaded our stuff, pitched our little tent and began to 
prepare for the trip across the plains. I had been sick for 
two or three days from what was supposed to be a bad cold, 
but on coming to the tent one day from a trip up town, 
my cousin found me nicely broken out with the measles. 
I kept close to the tent, was careful not to take cold and 
was soon all right again. 

St. Joseph at that time was perhaps as large a place 
as Neligh is at the present time, but not nearly so compact- 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 19 

ly built, and with much poorer buildings than Neligh now 
has. It was a lively place — there were hundreds of people 
camped near the town, some in tents and some in covered 
wagons, all preparing for their western journey. We knew 
that we could not pack supplies enough on our pony to last 
us more than half way to Oregon, and our intention was 
to hire out to drive teams for others. While I was sick 
with the measles my cousin found a man who wanted two 
men to drive his team, so that he might have time to hunt 
and fish and look out for camping places, or do anything 
else that suited him. He offered that if we would drive 
his team, and give him our pony, he would haul our stuff, 
put our provisions in with his, he and his wife doing the 
cooking, and that we should all eat together and work to- 
gether as one family during the entire journey to Oregon. 
We accepted his offer, found them nice intelligent people 
and we got along well together. His name was Knapp, 
but his first name has been forgotten. I have heard that 
Knappton in Washington was named for him. His family 
consisted of his wife and a little girl about two years of age. 

Mr. Knapp bought for the journey a yoke of oxen well 
broken and handy, and a yoke of three year old, and another 
of two year old steers and a yoke of cows. The steers and 
cows were tame but had never been yoked up and our first 
work was to break them in. This was not difficult for we 
both had been used to oxen all our lives but had never used 
horses to any extent. 

Mr. Knapp decided to take the trail on the north side 
of the Platte river, believing there would be less travel on 
that side and therefore better grass for the stock. We there- 
fore struck out to drive up along the east side of the Mis- 
souri river through northwestern Missouri and southwest- 
ern Iowa to Traders' Point opposite to where Bellevue, 
Neb., now stands, where we would cross the river to Sarpy's 
Trading post, and begin our western journey. We found 



20 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

the country well settled and quite well improved until we 
crossed the Iowa line, when the settlements became new 
and thin and the improvements small. At Sidney, Iowa, 
as I remember it there was one house only, in which the 
Sidney post office was kept. At Glenwood there was a 
small collection of houses and another post oifice. 

Rather an amusing thing occurred a day or so after 
leaving St. Joseph. As we went into camp at night, I 
found an old farmer camped about a quarter of a mile from 
us with a whole wagon load of smoked hams, shoulders, 
and bacon, on his way to St. Joseph to market. Reporting 
the fact to Mr. Knapp he directed me to buy from the old 
farmer a half dozen or so of hams, and handed me a little 
pasteboard box containing, I should say, from seventy-five 
to a hundred gold dollars. This was before the era of 
greenbacks or national currency. Our money consisted at 
that time principally of bills issued by state or private banks, 
much of which was at a discount, and most of it unsafe. 
There was however much gold and silver in circulation. 
Mr. Knapp had saved up expressly for this journey all the 
gold dollars he could get. Probably most of my readers 
have never seen a gold dollar — it is somewhat less in size 
and thinner than a dime. I wish they were in circulation 
now — it was the prettiest money I ever saw. I selected the 
hams, the farmer weighing them with his steelyards — we 
figured up the amount, and I counted out the sum in gold 
dollars, making the small change in silver. He looked at 
the money and said: 'T 'low it mought be good all right, 
but I never seed sich money afore. I reckon I'll take my 
pay in bills." I had to go back and get paper money for 
him. 

On arriving at Traders' Point I inquired for Council 
Bluifs post oifice and was directed to a little one story 
frame house about a mile away on the prairie. Here I got 
letters from home, the first we had received, and a good 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 21 

drink of buttermilk and lots of good advice from the kind 
old Mormon lady who kept the post office. 

What is now Council Bluffs was then called Kanes- 
ville, and Council Bluffs post office at that time was near 
Traders' Point. I thought the country passed over from 
St. Joseph to Traders' Point very fine, and after we crossed 
the Missouri river and passed on west this fine country 
continued until we crossed the Elkhorn and struck the 
Platte bottom, after which I did not like it so well. I will 
now say, however, after having had some experience, and 
having traveled extensively in twenty or more states, that 
I think the eastern third of Nebraska, and the western third 
of Iowa, the very finest and best farming country I have 
ever seen anywhere, of equal extent. 



22 EARLY DAY STORIES. 



CHAPTER III. 

Crossing the Missouri — Camp wliere Belleviie now stands — 
Gather wild strawberries May 28, 1852 — Start west on 
the journey from the Missouri May 29, 1852 — Join 
Capt. Wells' train — Cross the Elkhorn River. 

There were not many emigrants camped at Traders' 
Point on our arrival there, but they were coming from the 
east every day in covered wagons chiefly from Illinois and 
eastern Iowa, but some also from Indiana and Wisconsin. 
There had been a large number of emigrants at this point 
a few days before our arrival, awaiting their turn to be 
ferried across the river, but a river steamboat that had 
been used as a ferry boat had transferred the last of these 
just a day or so before we came. This steamboat had now 
gone down the river, leaving only two or three flat boats 
to do the ferrying. These flat boats could carry only one 
wagon and the team attached at a time, and it was slow 
work. We drove the wagon on to the boat with only one 
yoke of oxen attached, leading the other three yoke aboard 
and tying them to the wagon wheels. The boat was carried 
over the river mostly by the force of the current, which 
set across obliquely from the loading place to the landing 
on the opposite shore, but was also propelled and guided 
by two men with setting poles, and by a man with a large 
oar that worked on a pivot at the stern. The current was 
very swift and the boat was carried down stream at least 
a quarter of a mile before landing. On the return trip the 
boat was cordelled, that is, drawn by a rope and pushed 
by setting poles, up along the bank of the river, half or 
three quarters of a mile to a place where the current set 
across to the eastern shore. It must have taken nearly two 
hours to transfer one load and make the return to the 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 23 

eastern bank. It was almost night when we got across, 
and driving out a short distance west of Sarpy's trading 
post we camped for the night within the Hmits of the present 
village of Bellevue, Sarpy county, Nebraska. 

Sarpy's post, at that time consisted, as I remember it, 
of the store buildings of Peter A. Sarpy, a blacksmith shop 
for the Indians, a mission school, a government Indian 
Agency, and three or four dwellings. There were no set- 
tlers in Nebraska, then, nor for two years thereafter. The 
first real settlers — farmers who came to make this their 
home — to raise crops and to improve and develop the coun- 
try, did not begin to arrive until the summer and fall of 
1854. There were military and trading posts within the 
present boundaries of the state — there were traders, hunt- 
ers and two or three missionaries among some of the Indian 
tribes, and although tens of thousands of emigrants to the 
territories further west had crossed the fertile plains of 
Nebraska seeking for homes, none of them tarried here. 
The country was not open to settlement, the title of the In- 
dians to the land was not extinguished until the summer 
of 1854. 

It is sometimes claimed that Manuel de Lisa was the 
first settler in Nebraska. He was a fur trader and not a 
settler in the true meaning of the word. He established 
probably the first trading post in Nebraska, about the year 
1807, at or near the present site of Ft. Calhoun, Washing- 
ton county, and spent most of his time here, but he also 
had trading posts in Dakota and in Montana — his head- 
quarters were in St. Louis, where he died in 1820. He 
could not with propriety be called a settler. 

After camping, I was sent out to watch the cattle while 
they pastured upon the grass. There were three or four 
other emigrant wagons with us, and as we had agreed to 
keep together, and travel in company a few days at least, 



24 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

our cattle were all turned out together, to be herded until 
about nine o'clock, when they were driven in and tied to 
the wagons during the night, to be turned loose again as 
soon as daylight appeared in the east. While herding the 
cattle I found ripe wild strawberries, not in great abund- 
ance, as they were just beginning to ripen, but enough to 
remind me of home, as the strawberry plants were about 
the only kind of vegetation that had a familiar look — every- 
thing else being new, strange and unfamiliar. I had come 
from a thickly timbered country, and this was my first view 
of a new, wild, prairie land. Everything looked strange to 
me. The oak, elm and ash trees had somewhat of a familiar 
look, but they were different — they were not nearly so tall, 
were more bushy and spreading and altogether of a differ- 
ent appearance from the same varieties back home. Among 
the grasses and wild flowers of the prairie, and the weeds 
growing in the ravines, there was not one that had a famil- 
iar look excepting the wild strawberries. Years afterward, 
when I had become a resident of Nebraska and had famil- 
iarized myself with the trees, shrubs, grasses and other wild 
plants of the state, I found many that are identical with the 
same varieties of my home state, but I did not recognize 
any of them then. 

The next morning, May 29th, 1852, we started on our 
journey by way of the Overland Trail, bound for Oregon 
City, Oregon. The road was a splendid one — a hard, well 
beaten track, showing much travel, and meandering to the 
northwest over a beautiful gently rolling prairie country, 
thickly covered with new fresh grass five or six inches high 
and dotted with little plats of blue and yellow spring flow- 
ers. The road held to the divide between the little timbered 
creeks and ravines running east toward the Missouri and 
the branches bearing south or southwest that were tributary 
to the Papillion. As our road followed the high land the 
view was extensive and enchanting, Grander and sublimer 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 25 

scenery can be found among the mountains of Colorado, 
or Montana, or along the ocean coast of Oregon or Wash- 
ington, but for exquisite beauty and loveliness, no scenery 
can excel or equal that of a fertile rolling prairie in spring- 
time, just as God made it, with its green hills, its sloping 
valleys, its little meandering timber-bordered streams, and 
its plats of blue, purple and yellow flowers. And so it was 
here in Antelope county when I first saw it in 1869. I 
would like to live in such a place, with such surroundings, 
forever — but the White Man has come with his plow, his 
railroad, his telephone, his automobile and other discom- 
forts of civilization and spoiled it. I do not blame the White 
Man — it is his way and I helped to do the spoiling myself. 
But I look back with a tinge of sorrow and of regret, and 
of longing to once more see what I never can behold again ; 
a fertile prairie land in all its pristine loveliness, just as it 
came from the hand of its Creator. These things are all 
of the past and can never be again, and like Alexander the 
Great, I weep that it is so and that there are no more lands 
to conquer. 

That night we camped on a little branch of the Pa- 
pillion, where there was a fine grove of elm timber, some 
of the trees being very large. The grass and water were 
both abundant and good, and it was an ideal camping 
ground, excepting that there was no dry wood, the previous 
campers having used all that was in sight. The next morn- 
ing it was raining, and it continued to rain all day and grew 
very cold for the season of the year. It was difficult to 
keep a fire with the green elm, but by piling on a large 
quantity of the green fuel, and finding some dry branches 
by going a long way for them, we finally got and kept up a 
good fire. Toward evening the rain ceased and Mr. Knapp 
went out with the rifle and shot the heads off of four or 
five wild pigeons. These were not the mourning or turtle 
dove, such as we have here now, but were the genuine pas- 



26 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

senger pigeon, now an extinct variety, but which were more 
abundant sixty years ago than blackbirds are today, and 
which were often seen in larger flocks than any flocks of 
blackbirds of the present time. That night two Indians 
armed with bows and arrows, and accompanied by a little 
Indian boy about twelve years old came to the camp and 
asked permission to sleep by our fire. This was granted 
and at bed time they curled up in their buffalo robes, and 
kept quiet until after the morning fire was started. They 
were clothed with a band around the middle, with an apron 
or flap suspended before and behind extending about half 
way to the knees. Each adult Indian also had a good buf- 
falo robe thrown over the shoulders and moccasins on his 
feet. The boy had nothing on except a short cotton shirt. 
We had Johnny cake for breakfast next morning and Mrs. 
Knapp gave the Indians a quantity of the dough, which they 
cooked in the ashes, covering it with coals. The little In- 
dian found the place where I had cleaned the pigeons, and 
taking the entrails, stripped them through his fingers so 
as to press out what was on the inside, and then broiled 
them with the gizzards, heads and feet, upon the coals. 
These with the hot roasted Johnny cake were eaten with 
evident relish. 

Leaving the camp on the little Papillion, we passed over 
the divide and down the western slope to the Elkhorn river. 
Here there was a rope ferry, the rope being attached to a 
tree on either side of the river, and to this two short ropes 
with pulleys, these shorter ropes being connected with the 
ferry boat or scow, which was carried across the river by 
the force of the current. 

The country now became very flat and moist, as we 
had entered upon the great Platte valley, which we were 
to follow in an almost directly west course for more than 
six hundred miles. The road was wet and heavy until after 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 27 

crossing the Rawhide, a short distance east of the present 
site of Fremont, when it became better again. 

There was a large village of Pawnee Indians at that 
time just across on the south side of the Platte, and some 
of them were with us nearly all the time ; they were friendly 
and gave no trouble whatever, but we did not feel safe and 
determined to unite with a larger company at the first 
opportunity. That opportunity came very soon. We met 
with a company of emigrants from Illinois, consisting of 
about seventeen wagons, who were on their way to Califor- 
nia. They had crossed the river, as I recollect it, at Kanes- 
ville, now Council Bluffs, and had encamped exactly where 
Omaha now stands. They were fully organized, having a 
captain, a lieutenant, and an orderly and had adopted rules 
and regulations for the journey. It was known as Capt. 
Wells' train. We applied for permission to join the com- 
pany, which was readily granted on our agreeing to con- 
form to the rules and regulations. The company consisted 
of twenty-one wagons, I think, after we had joined, forty- 
two men, and about a dozen or fifteen women, and prob- 
ably twenty or more children. The men were all armed, 
generally with rifles, but some had single or double barrel- 
ed shotguns, and quite a good many carried revolvers, or 
single barreled pistols. We were well armed and equipped, 
as these things were considered then, but all the fire arms 
were muzzle loaders, as breech loading guns had not come 
into use at that time. 

The captain selected the camping places, or sent his 
lieutenant or orderly on ahead for that purpose. The stock 
was turned loose to feed as soon as camp was made and a 
temporary guard placed over it. As soon as supper was 
over guards were mounted for the night, two to guard the 
wagons which were placed in a circle with the tents inside, 
and two to guard the cattle which were allowed to run 
loose all night, but were not permitted to stray away. About 



28 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

nine o'clock the horses were brought inside the circle and 
secured to the wagons. There were very few horses in the 
outfit, the teams for the heavy wagons all being oxen. The 
guards were changed at one o'clock, and at daylight all 
hands were routed out by the wagon watch, breakfast pre- 
pared and served, and by a little after sunrise the train 
was on the move. At noon a stop was made of from one 
to two hours, but the cattle were not generally unyoked. 
Camp was made at night according to the distance to a 
good camping place — sometimes as early as four o'clock 
and sometimes as late as seven. The company was well 
organized and the discipline was good. There was no Sun- 
day travel, that I recollect, on the first part of the journey. 
On Sunday the oxen were allowed to feed and rest, and 
generally it was washing day in camp. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 29 



CHAPTER IV. 

Halted by a Band of Pawnees at Shell Creek — Pay Toll for 
crossing the creek — Cross Loup Fork near the present 
site of Genoa. 

The object of writing this personal narrative with some 
minuteness of detail, is to place before the readers as clear 
a view as may be, of conditions in the country of the plains 
as they appeared to the writer in the year 1852, or two 
years before there were any white people living in Nebraska, 
excepting those doing either military or missionary duty 
or engaged in trade with the Indians or employed by the 
traders as hunters and trappers. In the year 1852 Ne- 
braska was Indian country, with no white people except- 
ing those just mentioned. The changes that have taken 
place since that time are astounding. It is doubtful if any 
of the thousands who passed along up the valley of the 
Platte, by way of the Overland Trail, in the year 1852 had 
the very faintest thought or conception of what was to fol- 
low in so short a time — the transforming of a wilderness 
filled with herds of buffalo and bands of roving tribes of 
Indians as wild as the game they pursued and upon which 
they subsisted; into a magnificent farming country — the 
best may be in the world ; criss-crossed with railroads, dot- 
ted with thirving and growing cities and villages, covered 
with contented and prosperous communities of people, who 
are growing rich upon the products of a soil that had time 
and again been pronounced and denounced as desert. I am 
not expressing merely my own thoughts which I held at 
that time as to this country and its future, but the thoughts 
and opinions of others as far as I heard them expressed. 
If there was a man in our company of forty-two men, or 
if among the thousands who in 1852 passed over the 2,800 



30 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

miles from the Missouri river to the Willamette valley of 
Oregon, who thought the country west of the crossing of 
the Elkhorn amounted to anything or would ever amount 
to anything as a farming country, I do not remember of 
his speaking of it in my presence. The prevailing, prob- 
ably the unanimous opinion was, that the country to the 
Elkhorn crossing was beautiful, rich and fine. West of 
that it had grass, would produce pasture and hay for stock, 
and might some day be used for that purpose, but not in 
the near future. The thought was that th^re were better 
places — far better, than the flat, treeless, uninviting valley 
of the Platte, with its shallow, muddy river, its swarms of 
mosquitoes and green head flies, its stretches of wet, swampy 
ground, its prairie dog towns and its rattlesnakes. I found 
out afterward, but did not know it then, that prairie dogs 
never locate where the soil is poor, and that rattlesnakes 
always abound where there are prairie dogs, for the young 
of the prairie dogs make excellent food for the rattlesnakes. 
Just seventeen years and three days after we crossed 
the Elkhorn, June 1, 1852, I located my homestead on 
Cedar Creek, one hundred and twenty miles above the Elk- 
horn crossing, in what afterwards became Antelope county 
— I am not dreaming — it is so. 

Had we left the valley of the Platte and taken time to 
examine the low, undulating rolls and valleys that make 
up the highlands between the Platte valley and Maple 
creek, to the north of Fremont or had we looked over the 
valley of Shell creek north of Columbus, or followed up 
the valley of the Beaver from where Genoa now stands, 
we would have beheld a lovely and rich country, than which 
there is no better in Nebraska, or anywhere else. But we 
did not do this ; we were cautioned not to leave the trail, 
to keep together, and not to go far from the wagons, and 
besides there was no time for investigation. The Indians 
were thought to be dangerous — some of them were in sight 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 31 

from the wagons most of the time — there were only two 
or thrde riding horses in the outfit, and one could not go 
far away on foot and rejoin the train by camping time even 
though it were safe. So we passed through the country — 
that is, for the first two hundred miles — without seeing it, 
and formed our opinions of the country from what we saw 
of the Platte valley, which did not produce, on the whole, 
a favorable impression. From reading books of travel and 
exploration, and from talking with others, we had gotten 
unfavorable opinions of the country and we held to them. 
The mosquitos and green head flies did not bother us much 
at first, as it was too early in the season, but they got bad 
later on wherever there was wet land with tall grass. Later 
in the season the buffalo gnats became troublesome. These 
buffalo gnats were very bad also here in Antelope county 
for several years after its first settlement, but they have 
probably entirely disappeared. I think they are never found 
in a thickly settled farming country. They attack the eyes, 
ears and nose, and will fly right into one's mouth if he opens 
it. They are especially bad about attacking horses on the 
breast and under the lower jaw. The mosquitos left us 
entirely after we entered the dry, rolling country approach- 
ing the mountains. 

As we neared the crossing of Shell creek, close to 
where Schuyler now stands, Mr. Knapp, who had been 
riding ahead, came back and reported that there was a large 
number of Indians at Shell creek crossing. Orders were 
given by Capt. Wells to halt the train, and all the men were 
commanded to get their arms ready for instant use. The 
women and children, many of whom had been walking, 
were ordered into the wagons, which command was really 
not necessary, for they were very willing to get under cover, 
and the train was commanded to move in close order with 
guards on either side. We were in the Pawnee country, 
and the Pawnees at that time did not have a good reputa- 



32 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

tion. I do not now think there was a particle of danger, 
but we were looking for it then and to some extent at Icast, 
expecting it. My cousin and I were both with our team 
which was very near the head of the procession. As we 
came to Shell creek bridge we found a large force of In- 
dians, mostly on horseback, and all armed, and most if not 
all painted. They had bows and arrows in their hands and 
quivers, filled with arrows, hung over their shoulders ; some 
few of them also had guns. It looked warlike the way they 
were armed, but they appeared friendly. As I came up 
one of the Indians was trying to talk with Mr. Knapp, who 
with Capt. Wells and three or four of the guards was a 
little in advance of the teams. The Indian addressed him- 
self to Mr. Knapp, thinking him to be our captain, prob- 
■ ably because he was on horseback, the others of us all being 
on foot. The Indian handed Mr. Knapp a paper, which, 
instead of reading himself he passed directly to me. It 
was written in a very plain, nice hand and stated that the 
bearer, giving his name which I have forgotten, was the 
head chief of the Pawnees and that it would be to the in- 
terest of the emigrants to treat him with consideration and 
respect. After reading it aloud to those present, I was asked 
by Mr. Knapp to try and see if I could make out what he 
wanted. I had lived for several years within a mile of about 
a dozen families of Chippewa Indians, had played with and 
gone to school with the children, and could speak Chippewa 
fairly well, and also knew something of the sign language. 
My knowledge of Chippewa did no good, but by signs we 
managed to come to an understanding. The chief claimed 
that the Pawnees had built the bridge over the creek, and 
wanted pay for crossing — he made signs of planting corn, 
and wanted his pay in corn. There was doubt expressed 
about the Indians having built the bridge, although I be- 
lieve personally that the chief told the truth about it. How- 
ever it was decided to pay toll in corn. Accordingly the 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 33 

Indians placed a skin on the ground, and three or four 
bushels of shelled corn were brought from the wagons and 
piled upon the skin. The chief said in English, "Heap 
Squaw" meaning there were plenty of squaws to do the plant- 
ing, and made signs for more corn. The pile was increased 
to five or six bushels, which seemed to satisfy him, and 
opening up the ranks of his warriors he allowed us to pro- 
ceed, after shaking hands with Knapp and myself, and re- 
peating two or three times "Heap good man," "Heap good 
man." These two phrases "Heap Squaw" and "Heap good 
man," probably comprised all his knowledge of English — 
at least it was all he made use of during the interview. The 
chief did not shake hands at parting with any except Mr. 
Knapp and myself, probably supposing that Knapp was in 
command because he was on horseback, and that I was his 
lieutenant, because Knapp handed me the note to read. I 
never knew why Mr. Knapp passed the note to me, but I 
always suspected he was just enough scared to be a little 
beside himself. I made no attempt to count the Indians or 
estimate their numbers, but some who did, said there were 
about three hundred — probably one hundred would be more 
nearly correct. A bad mistake was made by Capt. Wells 
in permitting the teams to remain in line in charge of the 
drivers, provided he thought the Indians meant to be hos- 
tile. The wagons should have been parked, and prepara- 
tions made for defense, and only two or three should have 
gone out to meet the Indians. It was the only time on the 
whole trip that we were stopped by Indians, or that there 
was the least appearance of hostility, and the only signs of 
hostility this time were that the Indians were fully armed, 
there were no squaws with them, and they blocked the road 
to the bridge. The bridge was made of willow poles placed 
across the creek for stringers, covered with smaller willow 
poles, brush and sods. It was a sHmsy affair, and teetered 



34 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

up and down when we crossed it like a teeter board, but 
it carried us safely over. 

Leaving Shell creek we passed on up the valley, going 
directly through the place where Columbus now stands, and 
following on up the north side of Loup Fork near to the 
present site of Genoa. We camped over night on the north 
bank of the Loup, and began to make preparations to ford 
the stream the next day. The Loup, like the Platte, is a 
bad stream to ford, the bottom being all quick sand, and 
the current rapid. There were two or three men sent afoot 
across and back in different places to ascertain the depth 
and to find the best place to ford. It seemed about all alike 
everywhere. The bottom was all sand, the water shallow, 
being from a few inches to about a foot, excepting in the 
main channel where for fifteen or twenty feet the water 
was from two to three feet deep, but there the bottom was 
better. There was considerable timber along the river here, 
and Cottonwood poles seven or eight inches thick were cut 
and placed lengthwise under the wagon boxes so as to raise 
them above where the water would come. From eight to 
ten yoke of oxen were hitched to each wagon with two 
drivers for each team . The crossing was made without 
difficulty, but it took the most of the day. I helped to take 
eight wagons across and in doing it waded the river fifteen 
times. Toward the middle of the afternoon a strong wind 
came up from the northwest and it turned very cold lor 
that time of year, just as Nebraska weather has not forgot- 
ten to do in early summer, even of recent years. It was a 
chilly, disagreeable camp ; although there was plenty of tim- 
ber, it consisted almost entirely of green cottonwood, the 
dry wood having been used up by previous campers. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 35 



CHAPTER V. 

From Loup Fork to Wood River — Buffalo Chips — Lone 
Tree — The first Buffalo hunt — Flagging Antelope. 

After crossing Loup Fork, we went on, the next morn- 
ing, in a southwest direction, over a low, sandy divide, 
again striking the Platte valley at or near the present town 
of Clarks, in Merrick county, crossing on the way Prairie 
creek, which is a small sluggish stream abounding in sloughs 
and wet land. This creek, unlike most of the streams trib- 
utary to the Platte, does not take its rise in the hills but 
drains the great flat country north of Clarks, Central City, 
and Chapman, in Merrick county, and north of Grand Island, 
in Hall county. Here the Platte bottom is very wide, so 
that the hills on the north side could not be seen often, if 
at all from the trail, but south across the Platte river they 
were in plain view. Wood for camp fires now became very 
scarce — in fact there was none, excepting little willows not 
larger than one's finger, and even these were not plentiful. 
We therefore had to depend on the bois de vache (literally 
wood of cow), as it was called by the Canadian hunters 
and trappers but which in plain blunt English was trans- 
lated buffalo chips. This material had been dropped by the 
millions on millions of buffalo that ranged all over our Ne- 
braska prairies at that date and when cured by lying in the 
sun and wind for a year or two, and when perfectly dry, 
made a passably good fire. It did not burn like dry willow 
or ash brush, with a quick, bright blaze, but slowly and al- 
most without flame, like sawdust or wood so rotten and 
decayed as to fall all to pieces. It produced considerable 
heat and did very well for cooking, but made a poor camp- 
fire to sit by in the evening. It had to be perfectly dry to 
burn at all, and it was amusing whenever there were signs 



36 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

of an approaching shower to see the men strike out from 
the wagons, each one provided with a sack to gather up a 
supply of dry buffalo chips for use at the next camp. It 
was not necessary to carry a supply along in dry weather, 
because it was found in incredible quantities everywhere on 
the prairie. The emigration this year, 1852, was very large, 
and in fact it had been quite large every year since 1843, 
so that at camping places where there was timber, all the 
dry wood had been used up, but no impression whatever 
had been made. on the buffalo chips, except in the immed- 
iate vicinity of favorite camping grounds, and even there 
it was plentiful within a quarter of a mile of the camp. 
When it is called to mind that this was the condition every- 
where on the Nebraska prairies in the vicinity of living 
water where the buffalo came to drink, one may form a 
faint idea of the incredible numbers of these wild native 
cattle that once roamed all over the land that we have now 
appropriated to ourselves, pasturing and growing fat upon 
the wild grasses that grew and flourished in a land that had 
been named a desert, and of which Washington Irving, in 
his Astoria, among many other dreadful things, has this 
to say: "It spreads forth into undulating and treeless 
plains and desolate and sandy wastes, wearisome to the eye 
from their extent and monotony, and which are supposed 
by geologists to have formed the ancient floor of the ocean, 
countless ages since when its primeval waves beat against 
the granite bases of the Rocky mountains. It is a land 
where no man permanently abides ; for in certain seasons 
of the year there is no food for the hunter or his steed. The 
herbage is parched and withered ; the brooks and streams 
are dried up; the buffalo, the elk, and the deer have wan- 
dered to distant parts keeping within the verge of expiring 
verdure and leaving behind them a vast uninhabited soli- 
tude, seamed by ravines, the beds of former torrents, but 
now serving only to tantalize and increase the thirst of the 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 37 

traveler." Page on page could be quoted from authors, 
many of them prominent, similar to the quotation given 
above. Even Horace Greeley, as observant and practical a 
man as he was, speaking of his trip to Colorado by stage 
after gold had been discovered at Pikes Peak, in articles 
prepared by himself and published in the New York Tribune, 
said substantially as follows: "This country will not or 
cannot be used for farming until nature by its slow process 
has pulverized the soil, and dissolved it into finer particles, 
so that it can sustain and support plant growth." This is 
not his language exactly, for that has been forgotten, but 
it is exactly the thought as I read it myself in the Tribune ; 
and yet Horace Greeley as he passed over the route could 
see with his own eyes the rich buffalo, gramma and other 
grasses, the dried excrement dropped, and the trails made 
by the millions of these wild cattle of the plains. How 
could a country be thought to be a desert, when at that very 
time it was pasturing wild cattle that greatly exceeded in 
number all the tame cattle of the United States? I want 
to make all these things plain to our young people of Ante- 
lope county today — I want them to see and know just how 
things were, and just how they were regarded, and that is 
the excuse, if excuse is needed, for dwelling upon these 
things. But besides the buffalo, there were millions of elk, 
deer and antelope all feeding upon the grasses of our prair- 
ies ; but this will be taken up in subsequent articles. 

There was in our company a guide book, which de- 
scribed the route, telling of the best camping places where 
wood and water could be found, and giving the distances 
from one noted point to another. This guide book claimed 
that the route had been measured by an odometer, an in- 
strument attached to a wagon wheel and so constructed as 
to record the revolutions of the wheel. Hence by multiply- 
ing the number of revolutions by the measurement around 
the circumference of the wheel ,the distance traveled could 



38 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

easily be obtained. It was from this guide book that we 
ascertained that it was 2800 miles from the crossing of the 
Missouri river to Oregon City, Oregon. This guide book 
mentioned among other noted objects along the route Lone 
Tree. This tree was a single large cottonwood very near 
Central City, Merrick county. It was a prominent land 
mark, standing alone, between the trail and the river Platte, 
and was the only tree in sight for many miles. At that time 
it was apparently partly decayed, although I did not leave 
the trail to examine it. Central City was at first called Lone 
Tree, and it seems to me a mistake that the name was 
changed. Lone Tree has a definite meaning, and a history, 
and the name should have been perpetuated. The tree has 
lived its day, done its allotted task and gone to decay. Where 
it stood a monument has recently been erected to commem- 
orate the fact that for many years it was a beacon marking 
the way westward, to the pioneers who were making the 
toilsome journey overland to people the countries of the 
Pacific coast. 

Soon after passing the place where Grand Island now 
is, we began to see the caravans of white topped wagons 
that were following the trail on the south side of the river, 
but could hold no communication with them, for the wide 
stream always flowed between us and them and generally 
there was a mile or so of intervening land, for the road 
very seldom followed along the immediate bank of the 
river. We also met from time to time people returning from 
California, Oregon or Utah, to the states, and once or twice 
we met companies of returning trappers. All these people 
were traveling on horseback, carrying their effects on pack 
horses. I do not think we met a wagon at all. These all 
told us that we would probably see no more Indians until 
we neared Ft. Laramie where there would be plenty of 
Sioux — that we need have no fears of the Indians attack- 
ing us, or doing us any harm whatever unless to steal our 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 39 

horses, which they would do if they got a chance — that the 
Indians did not want our cattle and had no use for them — 
that there were plenty of buffalo which were fatter and 
better than the cattle, and which the Indians preferred. We 
were cautioned not to let the horses straggle away from 
camp, and to secure them at night. We were told to use 
always the water of the Platte river or of some pure running 
stream, and never to drink the water from shallow wells. 
It is proper to explain that we had often found wells that 
had been dug where the ground was low, whenever the road 
was far from the river. These wells were from four to six 
or eight feet deep, and contained a foot or two of water. 
We had not often used any of this well water because our 
guide books had cautioned against it. 

About this time there was a change made in the plan 
of camping. The wagons were still drawn up in the form 
of a circle on forming camp for the night, and at about 
nine o'clock the few horses belonging to the train were 
either brought inside and secured, or tethered with picket 
ropes near by outside of the circle of the wagons, but no 
guard was placed over the camp. The cattle were driven 
quite a distance from the camp to some place where the 
grass was good and watched by the guards until they quit 
feeding and began to lie down, when the guards too lay 
down with the cattle and went to sleep. The cattle guard 
from this time on was not changed during the night but re- 
mained with the cattle all night, bringing them in soon 
after sunrise. By the time the guards came with the cattle 
breakfast was over ,and while the men were yoking up the 
oxen and preparing to break camp, the guards ate their 
breakfast which had been kept warm for them. The people 
of our train were having a pretty good time. There had 
been no sickness nor accidents, there was no prospect of 
any trouble with the Indians, and the fear of them had 
about all subsided, the weather was nearly always pleas- 



40 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

ant, there not having been any rain except Hght showers 
since our camp at the Little Papillion the first day out from 
Sarpy's Landing, and excepting a few wet swaly spots, 
and a few miles of sand between the Loup crossing and 
the Platte, the road had been excellent. Discipline, there- 
fore, was very properly relaxed, and the men whose duties 
did not keep them with or near the train were permitted to 
ramble wherever or whenever they pleased. Game was not 
yet plentiful — no buffalo had been seen nor heard of, and 
the men whom we had met coming from the west reported 
that there would probably no buffalo be seen until after 
passing Ft. Laramie. There were antelope in sight every 
day, but they were wild and we did not get any of them — 
there were prairie chickens, and jack rabbits but not yet 
for us. The only thing we could find to vary the bill of 
fare from biscuit, pancakes, corn bread, beans, rice and 
bacon or ham, was wild onions ; these were plentiful and 
we gathered them as often as needed. Not many miles west 
of where Grand Island now is the trail struck Wood river, 
which is a beautiful stream about half as large as the Elk- 
horn, but without any of the low, sandy bottoms or fiats 
that prevail along the Elkhorn river. The country now 
looked very fine along Wood river and pleased us all nearly 
as well as did the country east of the Elkhorn crossing. 
My cousin and I took turns in driving, each having a day 
on and a day off. We must have been at this time near 
the east line of Buffalo county in the vicinity of the present 
village of Shelton. I had not as yet left the trail to go any 
distance away and had been just spoiling for a week or two 
for something exciting. As the trail would follow along up 
Wood river on the north side for some distance before cross- 
ing, a young man about my age and who felt just about 
as I did, got permission with me to go on a hunt to the 
north of the trail, and to turn west and meet the train 
some time in the afternoon or at any rate not later than 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 41 

camping time in the evening. After having been admon- 
ished over and over again, not to lose sight of the train, 
to be careful and not get lost or run into danger, and not 
to be out after dark, we started northwest, and for three 
or four miles could see not only our own train but two or 
three others also; crawling along at a snail's gait by the 
side of Wood river which could be traced by its line of 
bushes and small trees. The prairie over which we traveled 
was fine, thickly covered with grass just high enough to 
wave nicely in the wind, prominent among which was the 
wild blue stem, although I did not then know the names 
of any of the wild prairie grasses; and there were also the 
spider lillies in great abundance, and other wild spring flow- 
ers common to our Nebraska prairies. The day was fine and 
I was happy. There were antelope in sight nearly all the 
time, but they were shy and cunning, and knew just how 
near to approach, and just when to raise the long white 
hairs on the rump, which they do when alarmed, and bound 
away as if they had steel springs in their feet. We had 
heard about flagging antelope, and we tried it. We tied 
a red handkerchief on a ram rod, and lay flat down raising 
and waving the flag, and tried it over and over again — the 
antelope would come up within about forty rods, stop and 
gaze, run oflf, circle around and come up on the other side, 
then bound away again. It was of no use — there was no 
chance to get antelope steak for supper. We gave it up. 
Just north of us a short distance was a little gentle swell 
in the prairie — we reached the top, looked over to a little 
valley through which meandered a prairie brook, lined here 
and there with a few large handsome elm trees, and there, 
feeding not more than a half mile away were two buffalo. 
We were surprised, not to say astonished, for we had been 
told that there were no buffalo anywhere near the trail at 
that point or at that season of the year. We were now al- 
most sure of buffalo steak for breakfast next morning. It 



42 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

was easy to approach them for the wind was favorable and 
there were trees for shelter, and not far from the place 
where the buffalo were feeding was a large elm log for 
cover. After winding about to keep behind the cover of 
the trees, we finally crawled on hands and knees to the elm 
log, made ready, counted three and fired, both shots falling 
short. We were not used to estimating distance on the 
prairie, and our rifles were of light caliber. The buffalo 
looked up in a wondering, surprised sort of way gazing at 
the smoke of our rifles, sniffed the air, and then started off 
in a heavy, lumbering sort of gallop, and before we could 
reload were over the next rise of ground out of sight. We 
did not have buffalo steak for breakfast, but we did have 
a good time and a good appetite for supper. However, some 
time after we had buffalo meat in plenty, but this will be 
told later on. 

Note — Surprise has often been expressed at the scarcity of game along the entire route 
of the Trail. This scarcity is easily explained. There was abundance of game at no 
great distance, but it was frightened away from the immediate vicinity of the route, by 
the sight and scent of the constant stream of wagons, people and stock traversing the 
road. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 43 



CHAPTER VI. 



The journey up the Platte Valley — Hunting Mountain Sheep 
—Talk With a Sioux Indian— The Buffalo Hunt. 

As the trail passed on up the Platte valley to the west, 
the country began to change in appearance — the valley be- 
came gradually narrower, and the hills bounding it on 
either side became high, rough and bluffy in form — the ele- 
vation was greater, the air rarer and drier, and there were 
no rains excepting brief showers which were generally ac- 
companied with a good deal of thunder and lightning. The 
scenery grew more and more interesting as the western part 
of the state was reached, and Court House Rock, Chimney 
Rock and Scotts Bluff came one after the other into view. 

Grass became less abundant as the train progressed 
toward the west, although there was always plenty of it 
found by going some distance away from the camping 
grounds. Camp was always made where there was water, 
and if possible where there was wood also. If there was 
no wood there was always the substitute mentioned in a 
previous chapter. At one time when we had toiled along 
all day up hill and down, for we had left the level valley of 
the Platte — the country being quite hilly, rough and broken, 
but the road though hilly was not bad, but was hard and 
smooth almost as a rock — it had clouded up, and showed 
signs of a storm as we made camp. Mr. Knapp had gone 
on ahead with the pony and selected a good camping place, 
and about a mile from camp had found good pasture for 
the oxen, for it was all eaten off near the camping ground. 
It was my turn to go out with the cattle and stay with them 
all night, and Jolly was to be my companion on guard. 
Jolly was an Englishman, and a very good fellow, but he 
had some ways and traits that were not agreeable. His name 



44 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

was Jolly, but that was not his nature — he always had a 
grouch. Mr. Knapp and another man drove the herd out 
to the pasture ground as soon as the oxen were unyoked, 
while Jolly and I remained to eat supper before going. We 
reached the cattle just as it was getting dark and had some 
trouble in keeping them from wandering off, as there was 
a strong, cold wind from the west and the weather was be- 
coming disagreeable. A big black cloud was coming up 
and there were sharp flashes of lighting with heavy thun- 
der, and a little rain. Although it rained scarcely enough 
to wet UF, what little rain there was felt as cold as ice. 
Finall)' the cattle became partly quieted down and Jolly 
undertook to build a fire, the very thing which he could not 
do. I tried to get him to let me do it, but he said "No! 
You watch the dom cattle. I'll build the fire." Finally he 
gave up after using most of his matches and called for me 
to try my hand at it. That was one thing I could always 
do, to build a fire under almost any circumstances when 
camping out. I got some large sage brush, of which there 
was plenty, whittled off a good lot of dry shavings, got 
Jolly to get down on his knees and spread out his overcoat 
as a wind shield, and used one match only. The next morn- 
ing was bright and cold, and the Rocky mountains, streaked 
with broad white patches of snow were in plain sight for 
the first time, sixty miles away to the west. No wonder it 
was a cold rain — it came right down from the snowy moun- 
tains. 

We saw no Indians after leaving Loup Fork until 
within about a day's drive of Ft. Laramie, Wyoming. I was 
out hunting one day when we were about twenty miles or 
so east of Ft. Laramie, trying to get a shot at some mountain 
sheep. The hills were high and very steep and rough; I 
had come in sight of the game several times, but always 
they had gone to the top of some high, steep bluff, from 
the summit of which they would stand on the edge of a 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 45 

steep precipice and gaze down at me. Finally I determined 
to climb the bluff on which there was a flock of six or eight, 
and try and outwit them and get a shot. Going away off 
some distance to the west among the low rolls at the foot 
of the bluff, and keeping out of sight as I supposed, I ap- 
proached the hills again from another side where it was 
not so steep, and carefully climbing up probably eight or 
nine hundred feet, reached the summit after a good deal of 
hard work, to find that the game had gone down on the 
other side, crossed a deep, rough valley and now stood gaz- 
ing at me from the top of another bluff of equal height, 
about a quarter of a mile away. Making up my mind that 
I was not a mountain sheep hunter — a thing I ought to have 
known before — I gave it up and started for camp. Just as 
I got to the foot of the bluff I saw an Indian at some dis- 
tance away who had no doubt been watching my perform- 
ances and laughing to himself about them, and who beck- 
oned me to wait. I sat down on a rock until he came up. 
He was armed with a very poor kind of light, single shot 
gun, called a fusee. We shook hands and sat down to talk 
and get acquainted. He told me he was a Sioux— that there 
were lots of Sioux near by, pointing to the west and north- 
west, and making signs that they were in camp with their 
families and teepees. The only word spoken that I could 
understand was Sioux, but he made his talk plain by signs. 
We had quite a long friendly chat together, and as he said 
he was out of powder, I gave him on parting several charges 
of powder and some bullets, and we shook hands and parted 
good friends. On reaching camp I found my friends very 
uneasy for my safety, as there had been several mounted 
Indians at the camp, and others were seen at a distance. 
We camped a day on the north side of the river about a 
mile from the fort. The Indians were all on the opposite 
side of the river but many of them came over, bringing 
buffalo robes, dressed deer skins and moccasins to trade. 



46 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

My cousin and I both traded for moccasions, and it was 
lucky we did as our shoes would not have lasted through 
to the end of the journey. 

If you will examine a map of Wyoming, you will find 
that a few miles west of Casper the Platte river makes a 
big bend, coming at that point almost from the south, and 
then turning abruptly to the east. Just as this elbow of 
the river we camped for several days to hunt buffalo and 
to cure the meat. Game had been scarce and wild all the 
way so far. There were plenty of antelope, but that was 
the only kind of large game excepting that there were 
mountain sheep after we reached the rough country, but 
we got no sheep, and very few antelope. Occasionally we 
caught a catfish in the Platte, and also got a very few ducks, 
chickens and rabbits. At this elbow of the Platte there were 
some very high hills, their steep shelving sides streaked with 
red. These were called the Red Buttes. Just at the foot 
of these buttes there were some very large, cold springs — 
there was also plenty of good, cold water in the Platte, 
which had now lost its muddy character and quick sand 
bottom, and instead had clear water and a rock bottom. We 
heard from other campers who had been hunting and curing 
meat, that buffalo were plenty just across the river only a 
few miles from the camp. Next morning all the men who 
could be spared and who wanted to go, started on a buffalo 
hunt. Only a few had horses, nearly all going on foot. I 
went alone from choice, and it is only what happened to 
myself and Jolly, whom I came across later in the day, that 
can here be related. I first went about a mile up the river 
along the foot of Red Bluffs, stopping to examine several 
big springs one of which, icy cold, flowed right out from 
under the largest one of the Red Buttes, in a stream half 
as large as Cedar creek at the crossing north of Oakdale. 
Taking off all my clothing, packing it up in a bundle and 
tying it on my shoulders, I waded the river, holding my 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 47 

gun and powder horn above my head. The water was 
swift, cold and almost up to my arms in one place, and 
the stony bottom being rough and slippery, I came near 
being taken off my feet, but made the crossing all right, 
put on my clothing and walked to a hill about a mile away, 
from the top of which I expected to see buffalo, but none 
were in sight. Turning back I recrossed the river and 
climbed the highest of the Red Buttes, from the top of which 
I thought I could see a good many black specks away to 
the southeast but if buffalo, which was probable, they were 
too far away for me to hunt on foot. Nearby, however, to 
the west, and probably not more than a mile from the hill 
on which I stood were two buft'alo quietly feeding, and close 
by right at the foot of the hill was Jolly. I hurried down, 
met Jolly and told him what I had seen. We went after 
the two buffalo, being very careful to keep out of sight, and 
coming up to them so that the wind was in our favor, we 
easily got up within seventy-five steps of them. Remem- 
bering my ill success at Wood river, where we saw the first 
buffalo, we meant to make sure of these. We both agreed 
to shoot at the buffalo nearest, which was a big fellow 
standing broad side, and apparently unsuspicious of danger. 
At the count of three we both fired, one of the bullets break- 
ing the fore leg above the knee. Our guns were too light 
for such game, and had not the fore leg been broken, doubt- 
less he would have carried away the lead from both shots, 
and we would have lost him. He could scarcely run at all, 
he was so bulky and heavy, and after following the other 
a short distance he turned aside, and lay down in a small, 
steep ravine. As soon as we could reload I started on the 
run after the wounded buffalo but Jolly called out "Hold 
on, young man, hold on, something has happened to my 
gun." But the young man did not hold on — he kept right 
on after the game, which was soon overtaken. The wound- 
ed buffalo was lying in the bottom of a dry creek under a 



48 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

cut bank that was probably eight feet high, and taking in 
the surroundings at a glance, I came up right over him on 
top of the cut bank. He gave a snort and a deep, hoarse 
bellow and getting on to his three feet began to hook the 
cut bank, throwing the clay all over his back. I knew he 
could not get at me without going up or down the ravine 
several rods, and so I stood and watched him a little while 
— he was mad and awful savage. I then shot him in the 
head and he fell to the ground and did not try to rise again. 
Jolly now came up puffing and blowing, for he was too 
short of wind to run in that high altitude without getting 
out of breath. He put in the final shot and the great brute 
rolled over on his side. I had read and heard much about 
the great size of the buffalo but this one looked larger to 
me than I had supposed them to be. Jolly by this time had 
lost his grouch and we both felt very proud and well sat- 
isfied with our kill. We cut out what meat we could carry 
and went back to camp which was probably not over two 
miles away. Getting help, and horses to pack the meat on, 
we returned and cut all the best of the meat from the bones, 
leaving the carcass to the wolves, the ravens and the buz- 
zards. The other party returned at evening with all the 
meat they could carry, but I do not remember how many 
buffalo were killed. We cut the meat in thin strips, salted 
it slightly, and dried it in the sun, smoke, and heat of the 
fire. This took three or four days. We had all the meat 
we could afford to spend time to cure, besides an abund- 
ance of fresh meat for several days. In that dry climate 
and high altitude fresh meat will keep for a long time with- 
out spoiling. Without this supply of meat our provisions 
would have run low long before reaching a place where 
supplies could be had. We did run short as it was, before 
reaching our journey's end, as will be seen in another chap- 
ter. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 49 



CHAPTER VII. 

Incidents of the Journey — Out on the Trail Over Night — 
The Dogs and the Wolves. 

I have omitted to state that somewhere along near the 
western line of the present state of Nebraska, but I have 
forgotten at just what point, Mr. Knapp, became dissatisfied 
with the method of travel of Capt. Well's train, and he de- 
termined to pull out and leave it. He thought a train of 
twenty-one wagons too large — that it took too much time 
to pitch camp in the evening, and to break camp in the 
morning, and that there were too many cattle in one herd 
to do well when turned loose to feed. He therefore deter- 
mined to travel alone for a time, until we could pick up a 
few wagons with people who would be congenial and 
agreeable to us, and thus form a new and much smaller 
train that would be more easily handled. His position upon 
this question was well taken, and the reasons therefor were 
good and sound. We therefore traveled by ourselves for a 
week or ten days, my cousin Wesley and myself taking the 
whole charge of the cattle, one or the other of us always, 
and some of the time both of us staying out with them all 
night. We got along all right, only that Wesley and I did 
not have our full amount of sleep, because when out with 
the cattle we had to be up and stirring whenever the cattle 
got up to feed. When the cattle were driven out to pas- 
ture after making camp, they would usually feed until about 
ten o'clock, when they would lie down and be quiet until 
about one or two o'clock, and then get up and feed for an 
hour or so and lie down again. If they did not get up and 
go to feeding at the first streak of daylight, it was our busi- 
ness to rout them out, which we did if we were awake our- 
selves, which generally was not the case, and then at about 



50 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

sunrise they were to be driven to camp. Do not think that 
we with our wagon were alone at any time, even if we were 
traveHng by ourselves. There were wagons ahead, and 
wagons behind us, all the time and in plain sight, unless 
for a short time it happened that our wagon was hidden in 
some small valley. Mr. Knapp, who spent much of his time 
on horseback soon picked up some emigrants with three or 
four wagons and directly thereafter three or four more, 
making a train of eight wagons in all, and about twenty- 
four persons, men, women and children. This train was, 
from that time on to the end of the journey, known as 
Knapp's train. It just came to be known as such because 
Knapp was the most prominent and best known person of 
the company, but not because he was captain, for we had 
no captain or other officers, nor any rules or regulations. 
Mr. Knapp was the leader — always selected the camping 
places, going on ahead with the pony for that purpose, and 
as he had good sense and good judgment, his plans were 
always followed and his suggestions adopted. However, he 
never assumed to command, or even to take the lead, but 
consulted with the others as if desirous of getting their 
opinions, but somehow his opinions were always satisfac- 
tory and were followed out without objection. 

I was the only one in the company, as I now remember, 
who ever gave any trouble; but I was a constant source 
of anxiety to my cousin and in a less degree to Mr. Knapp. 
As stated before my cousin and I each had a day on and a 
day off ; our duties were light and easily performed ; the 
oxen had become thoroughly broken, and would mind at the 
word. Our lead team of oxen were called Tom and Tim 
— it was the easiest thing in the world to turn them out of 
the track either to the left or right, even when the driver 
was away back by the wheel oxen, by calling out, "Whoa, 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 51 

haw, Tom, haw, Tim," or "gee, Tom, gee, Tim." They 
were all of them as tame and tractable as a pet dog; and 
Tim was my pet. When watching the cattle at night, as 
soon as they lay down to rest, I would lie down by Tim, 
snuggHng up close to his side if the night was chilly, which 
was always the case when we had reached a high altitude, 
and I would immediately fall asleep, to be awakened when 
Tim made a move to get up to go to feeding. Poor Tim, 
he fell by the way and did not live to feed in the green pas- 
tures of the Willamette valley. I hope there is a heaven for 
all such faithful friends of man, as are our domestic animals, 
for it seems to me that there would be something lacking 
to be forever without their devoted companionship. We 
do not know — we cannot tell — it may be. 

As intimated, I was a constant source of worry to my 
cousin, and I think in a less degree to Mr. Knapp. When 
it was my day to drive, Wesley always stayed near the wag- 
ons, and never went hunting or exploring, although he was 
free to do so if he desired. On the contrary, when we 
reached that interesting country in the upper part of the 
Platte valley, and so on west, if it was my day off, I was 
always out with my gun as soon as the train was ready to 
pull out, and generally was not seen again until after noon, 
and frequently not till supper time, unless it was my turn 
to guard the cattle, when I would always get back before 
camping time. I do not think Mr. Knapp cared anything 
about it only that, as I was out quite late a few times, he 
was afraid I would get lost and delay the train. But Wes- 
ley was one of the cautious kind and was afraid I would 
break a leg, or that the Indians would get me, or that some 
other dreadful thing would happen. One night we made 
camp on the north bank of Malheur river, in extreme east- 
ern Oregon, and just across the Snake river opposite the 



52 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

place where now stands the city of Payette, Idaho. The 
next morning it was my day off, and borrowing from a 
member of our company a book entitled "Jo^^^i^^l of Travel 
over the Rocky Mountains to the Columbia River," by Joel 
Palmer, I lay down under a tree as soon as the train was 
in motion and began to read. I was admonished by my 
cousin not to stay too long, but to overtake the train before 
noon, which of course I readily and faithfully promised to 
do. Under existing circumstances such a book, as one can 
readily see, was enchanting, in fact absorbing, and I for- 
got all about time or place. The sun grew hot and two 
or three times I changed my position to secure shade — 
train after train passed along and I continued to read. At 
last when the book was finished the sun was well down in 
the west, and I knew it would be dark before I could over- 
take the train. But I was light on foot then, was wearing 
moccasins, and had no coat — coat and rifle having been left 
in the wagon, and besides I had had no dinner and was not 
burdened with a full stomach — there was nothing to carry 
but the book I had been reading. It was a good long stretch 
to the next camping place which was called I think, mud 
springs, and I knew I could overtake no wagons until I 
reached that place, as that was the first water. Just at dark 
I heard a dog bark ahead of me in the road, and looking 
up saw two large brindled dogs that belonged to our train. 
They had been hunting together, as they were accustomed 
to do, and had now returned to the road looking for the 
train, which of course, was their home. They were as glad 
to see me as I was to see them. Going on in company with 
the dogs, I expected surely to meet our folks at the springs 
and so evidently did the dogs, judging from their actions, 
but although there were three or four outfits in 'camp, our 
train was not there. On inquiring for Knapp's train I was 
told "It is about an hour ahead." That would mean about 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 53 

a half hour for me, and after traveHng more than half an 
hour I came to another camp and asked again for Knapp's 
train, and was told "It is about an hour ahead." The dogs 
and I went on — there was starlight but no moon — the road 
was full of loose stones, and I was constantly stubbing my 
toes, in the dark, the moccasins not affording very satis- 
factory protection. I was hungry, not having had a mouth- 
ful since breakfast. I am not sure, but think I must have 
been getting tired, and am quite sure I was getting mad. 
I told the dogs it was time to camp, so we turned aside 
up a little hollow ; I gathered up a big armful of sage brush, 
of which there was plenty, and soon had a good big fire. 
The dogs and I curled up by the fire and went to sleep to- 
gether . The night was cool, and I was in my shirtsleeves, 
but sage brush was plenty and the fire was replenished many 
times during the night. The wolves, the big gray kind, were 
around camp all night, snapping and howling but there was 
not a particle of danger from them — they were not hungry, 
for the trail was strewn with dead or dying cattle. The 
dogs chased them off several times, and seemed to think 
it was their business to take care of me. What a faithful 
friend to man is a dog — he never wavers in his affection for, 
or devotion to his master. Had a man been my companion 
that night, he might have forsaken me and saved himself 
if possible, had there been danger, but these dogs would 
have stayed by me to the last and would have given their 
lives to save mine. A few days later these dogs went on 
a hunt and did not return. I was very sorry, for although 
they were not mine, they were my friends, especially on 
that night. I got to camp next morning just as they were 
yoking up the oxen and Mr. Knapp had the pony saddled 
to start back after me. I got a good rounding up, which 
of course was merited, but it did not do one bit of good. 
"The leopard cannot change his spots, nor the Ethiopian 
his skin." 



54 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

There were many things that tended to make this trip 
interesting. Among other things, while we were traveUng 
along the Platte valley with Capt. Wells' train, some mem- 
ber of the company had a greyhound, a very tall, fleet dog 
that was a great favorite. He would chase antelope every 
time one came near enough so that he could see it, but I 
think he was never able to catch one, although they had 
to get right down to business and do their best to keep out 
of his reach. 

One day two of the men were about sixty rods away 
from the wagons, trying, I think, to get some prairie chick- 
ens, having the dog with them. A big wolf started up out 
of the grass, and the dog gave chase. The ground was 
perfectly level, and the chase was a fine one, and all in 
plain sight of the wagons, as the wolf, instead of running 
north toward the hills, kept right on west the way we were 
going. The dog caught him in a short distance and at 
one snap disabled one hind leg — the wolf turned, but the 
dog got out of the way. Again the wolf started to run, 
and the dog caught him again and soon had both hind legs 
crippled. The wolf then stopped to fight and refused to 
run, when one of the men came up near enough and shot 
him. The dog and wolf did not clinch, and the dog was not 
hurt at all. 

While in camp opposite Ft. Laramie a number of young 
Indians visited our camp with their bows and arrows and 
began shooting at a mark. The men would put an old 
fashioned cent in a split stick and placing it at a distance 
of ten steps away, the Indians would shoot at it, the cent 
going to the one that could hit it. 

After awhile, borrowing a bow and arrows from one 
of the Indians I tried my luck at it, and found that I could 
shoot about as well as the Indians. 

It surprised them very much that a white man knew 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 55 

how to handle a bow and arrows. If I had had a Chippewa 
bow I believe I could have beaten them. I had used a Chip- 
pewa bow and arrows from the time I was eight years old 
until I was grown, and had become expert. The bows of 
the Chippewas are much longer than those of the Sioux, 
but the arrows are about the same. 

When we reached the upper waters of the Platte, and 
also farther west on the Sweetwater there were an abund- 
ance of wild, ripe gooseberries, and also yellow and black 
wild currants, and after crossing the divide and getting over 
into Bear river valley and beyond as far as Snake river, 
we found ripe, wild service berries in such quantities as T 
had never seen before nor have I ever seen anything like 
it since. There were also wild strawberry plants in great 
abundance on the Sweetwater, but the fruit was all gone 
before we reached that place. 

Probably from what has been told in this and some of 
the preceding chapters, the reader will be of the opinion that 
it was a very pleasant thing to cross the continent with an 
ox team in the early fifties, and this opinion will be at least 
partly correct. It was not only in many respects a pleasant 
trip, but it was also instructive — it was an education of a 
kind that could be had in no other way — it was worth more 
to a young man than any term of equal length in school. 
But there was a serious side also — it was not all pleasure 
and there was very little play. The next chapter, or at 
least a part of it, will be devoted to some of the more serious 
problems that presented themselves during the trip. 



56 EARLY DAY STORIES. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The Cholera— Death of Hosea Ballou— The Story of Mrs. 
Knapp and Her Baby. 

It might be inferred by the reader from perusing the 
preceding articles, that about all the travel over the Oregon 
and California trail in the year 1852, and previous years, 
was by ox teams. To quite an extent this was true. At 
the time of which I am writing, all the trains that I saw 
on the route were made up of ordinary farm wagons drawn 
by ox teams, excepting that there were in almost every 
train a few light wagons, generally with springs, that were 
drawn by horses, and carrying the women and children and 
sometimes the bedding. These light wagons and horse 
teams were scarce, however, as most of the emigrants had 
but one wagon, which carried the provisions and bedding 
of the owner, as well as a few common, indispensible tools, 
and in which also rode the wife and children, provided the 
owner had a family. However in the early part of the 
season many trains had passed over the road, made up of 
men almost entirely, with horse or mule teams lightly equip- 
ped, and able to travel rapidly, and all bound for the gold 
mines of California. These were all ahead of us, and we 
saw none of them. They could make the overland trip with 
good luck in ninety days from the Missouri river, while it 
took the slow-moving ox trains a full five months. These 
horse and mule outfits were in much more danger from the 
Indians than were the trains drawn by oxen, because the 
Indians wanted the horses and mules and would steal them 
at any time if there was a chance, but they had no use what- 
ever for the oxen. The feeling of danger from Indians 
therefore to our train, soon ceased, to trouble us, except that 
there were some timid ones wha w§r? ajiyays afraid. As 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 57 

for myself, I had always known Indians, liked them, and on 
every occasion when any came to our camp I made their 
acquaintance as much as possible and treated them as friends. 
It was intimated in the last chapter that this article would 
treat 'in part at least of some of the serious problems of the 
trip that had to be met and solved. I have mentioned the 
Indians at this time because it seems to stick permanently 
in the minds of many that the probability of Indian attack 
was the most serious of all the problems confronting the 
emigrant. Let this idea of Indian attack be eliminated from 
the reader's mind — if such danger ever existed, and it did 
sometimes, it did not exist in the year 1852. 

The first real trouble that befell our train, and that while 
we were traveling with Capt. Wells' company, was the ap- 
pearance of Asiatic cholera, or at any rate what was called 
Asiatic cholera. I find on consulting certain authorities 
recently, that it is denied that there ever has been any real 
Asiatic cholera in the United States but once, that being in 
1832-1834, and that the scourge of so called cholera of 1850- 
1854 was not cholera at all. "Who shall decide when doc- 
tors disagree?" If a disease that is kindred to cholera and 
that carries off 30 to 50 percent of those attacked, is in our 
presence, it makes little difference what it is called. Our 
company suffered from this disease but little comparatively, 
but it was very prevalent in some companies, and very fatal. 
It apparently had followed the emigration from St. Louis 
up the Missouri river, and so on across the country by the 
overland trail, perhaps not quite across the continent but 
at least as far west as the Snake river valley in Idaho. 

In our company was a Mr. Hosea Ballou with his wife 
and, I think two or three little children, accompanied also 
by a brother, Henry Ballou, all from Henry county, 111. 
We had heard of cholera, and of some deaths in some of 
the neighboring companies, but our people had been well. 



58 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

excepting some cases of dysentery, when suddenly Mr. 
Hosea Ballou was stricken with cholera and died in a few 
hours. I saw him die, and it was the first death I had ever 
witnessed. It made a deep impression on my mind. A 
strong man who only a day or so previous to his death, I 
had seen going about his work in apparent health, was cut 
down without warning, leaving a wife and two or three 
helpless babies. It seemed to me that we were utterly 
helpless in the presence of such a scourge. A grave was 
dug by the side of the trail, and the body wrapped in ^ bed 
quilt as there was no lumber for a coffin, was sorrowfully 
and silently lowered into it, and without a prayer or a song 
or the reading of a single passage of Scripture, the grave 
was filled and the train moved on. God deliver us from 
such a death and burial. It was better to be broken and 
killed by a fall from a precipice — to be drowned in the waters 
of the river or to be killed by the Indians, than to die such 
a death, and to have such a burial. This cast a dreadful 
gloom over the whole company, but it was the only death 
from this cause. There were two or three more light cases 
of the disease in our train, one of whom was Mr. Knapp, 
but all speedily recovered. For many weeks, however, 
there were cases of dysentery, some of which were serious, 
obstinate, and of long duration. 

Another serious matter, and the cause of a good deal 
of trouble, and loss, amounting in some cases to the break- 
ing up of some of the teams, and abandonment of the wa- 
gons, was the lameness and sickness of some of the oxen. 
There was little or none of this for the first five or six hun- 
dred miles, but as we approached the mountains and the 
roads became very hard, gravelly, and hilly, the oxen, es- 
pecially the heavy ones, and those used as the wheel teams 
— that is those next to the wagon — became footsore and 
lame, in some cases the feet becoming worn through on the 
bottom so that they would bleed. Our employer, Mr. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 59 

Knapp, had provided against this trouble by bringing along 
a supply of ox shoes and nails for putting them on. Some, 
however, did not think of this, or did not forsee such a 
difficulty and did not provide themselves with ox shoes. 
We lay over for two days when our oxen first began to have 
tender feet, and shod all in our train that needed it, as some 
had shoes, and Mr. Knapp fortunately had enough to supply 
those who had none. In the lumber woods, and elsewhere 
where it is necessary to shoe oxen, a frame is kept at every 
blacksmith shop, into which the ox is led, where he is se- 
cured and by means of a clutch, straps, ropes and pulleys 
he is easily placed in position, and the work is quickly and 
easily done. Out on the plains, however, it was different, 
and was no easy job. Sometimes the front feet could be 
shod with the ox standing if he was very quiet and gentle, 
but to shoe the hind feet the ox had to be thrown on his 
side, his head secured so he could not raise it ,and the hind 
feet drawn forward up against the body and tied with ropes. 
Our man, Jolly, mentioned in the last article, was a black- 
smith, and expert at the business as soon as the best plan to 
throw and hold the ox was discovered. Very many oxen 
became so footsore that they could not travel and had to be 
abandoned, to be devoured by the wolves. After crossing 
the Rocky mountains there was a disease among the cattle 
which was not understood, and which was incurable, that 
took off a great many. From the summit of the Rocky 
mountains west to the end of the journey the trail was 
marked so thickly with dead cattle, that they were hardly 
ever out of sight, and the wolves, buzzards and ravens at- 
tracted by the carcasses upon which they feasted were more 
numerous than I have ever seen them elsewhere. 

I wonder if any mother, who is a reader of these papers, 
would be ambitious to make such a trip of almost 2800 miles 
as the road runs, and taking from the middle of May to the 
middle of October, or even a longer time, having in her care 



60 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

from one to five children, riding in the day time and sleeping 
at night in a covered wagon, cooking by an open fire, with 
the wind, dust or rain to contend with, to say nothing of the 
hot sun by day, the music of the wolves by night, and the 
more or less constant fear and dread of the Indians. If 
any feel that way— well — they have got grit — that is all. 

At the same time that the oxen were shod, the tires were 
set on many of the wagons, as the hot weather and dry 
atmosphere was hard on the woodwork. This, however, 
was quite an easy job — cottonwood bark was plentiful at 
that camp and was used for heating the tires. 

As stated in a former chapter, our family, when we left 
St. Joseph, Mo., consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Knapp and their 
little girl, and my cousin, Wesley, and myself, but awav <^ver 
the continental divide somewhere, I cannot now remember 
just where, there was an addition to our family, Mrs. Knapp 
presenting her husband with a little girl baby. It cannot be 
said that there was rejoicing in camp because an addition 
of that kind was really desired or welcomed, but there was 
rejoicing that the baby lived and that Mrs. Knapp recovered 
her strength rapidly, and only a delay of two or three days 
was necessary before resuming the journey. 

And now comes the saddest part of my story. I shrink 
from telling it, and have seldom mentioned it — but it is 
proper and right that it should be told. We were camped 
on Burnt river, in what is now Baker county, eastern Ore- 
gon, somewhere between Huntington and Baker City — the 
oxen had died off so that our team was not strong enough 
to draw the wagon, and all the other teams were in a similar 
condition — we were getting short of provisions, and we 
supposed none could be had nearer than Walla Walla, pro- 
bably 200 miles distant. It was decided to double teams, 
abandon part of the wagons, and all the single men to leave 
the train and go on foot, to shift for themselves as well as 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 61 

they could. The teams so doubled could easily draw the 
remaining wagons, and it was thought there might be pro- 
visions enough left to last those that tarried with the teams, 
until supplies could be reached. There were four of us to 
go on ahead, my cousin, Wesley, a man by the name of Root, 
another whose name has gone from me, and myself. We 
bade them all good bye, and started off, but our journey of 
400 miles on foot will be told in the next chapter. 

Mrs. Knapp and her babies I never saw a^'^m. I saw 
Mr. Knapp in Portland about a year later, ana he told me 
this sad story. Soon after we left the company the baby 
was taken sick and died and was buried in a poor, little, 
lonely grave, only another added to the thousands that al- 
ready marked the whole course of the trail. It was too 
much for the mother — she probably had not become very 
strong and in just a few days she followed her baby to the 
better land. Poor Mrs. Knapp — her lot for the last few 
months of her life was a hard one. Born of well to do 
parents in Louisiana, her father an owner of slaves, reared 
in a good home, well educated, surrounded by luxuries, she 
yet consented, and willingly, I think, to undertake this trip, 
knowing of some of the things at least, that she was to 
endure. She had energy, courage and grit, but had never 
been drilled in the school of adversity. Her strength was 
insufficient for the burdens she had to carry. Mr. Knapp 
was born in Ohio but went to Louisiana when quite young, 
and married his wife there. He did not believe in slavery 
and wanted to go to a state where it did not exist, and his 
wife was willing to go with him. They decided that Oregon 
was the place. The reader has heard the story but I could 
scarcely summon sufficient resolution to relate it. 



62 EARLY DAY STORIES. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Four Young Men Leave the Train and Go On Afoot — Ar- 
rival at the Dalles — Trip Down the Columbia — Arrive 
at Oregon City. 

Referring back to the narrative given in the last chap- 
ter, it will be remembered that our train was reconstructed, 
and that to economize in provisions, four young men of the 
train who had no families, were to leave the company and 
make the rest of the journey on foot. It had been known 
for some time that provisions were getting scarce, and every 
effort possible had been put forth to procure game and 
fish to help out. Before we left the train and while en- 
camped on one of the tributaries of Snake river called Goose 
creek, a number of fish of the sucker variety, weighing from 
one to two pounds apiece, were shot with a rifle in the shal- 
low waters, and this gave us one good mess. A little far- 
ther on we came to an Indian village at a place where there 
were some low falls in the river, and these Indians were 
engaged in drying salmon for their winter supply of pro- 
visions. They were not willing to sell the dried fish but 
oflfered fresh ones right out of the water for sale. I traded 
for a large red salmon that would probably weigh thirty 
pounds, a ten cent tin powder flask, containing about six 
charges of powder. This was all we wanted for our wagon, 
and it tasted so good that nearly all of us overate and were 
sick from its effects. Near this place we crossed Snake 
river, because it was known that the road for a hundred 
miles or so was much better on the north than on the south 
side. The river was too deep to ford, and a raft was con- 
structed by taking two of the tightest and best wagon boxes, 
lashing them together side by side, caulking the seams as 
tightly as possible, thus forming a pretty safe and sub- 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 63 

stantial raft. The wagons were unloaded and taken apart, 
and every thing ferried safely over, it taking a good many 
trips, but it was accomplished with little difficulty. The cat- 
tle were driven across, having to swim part of the way, and 
it fell to my lot here as elsewhere, when any large stream 
was to be crossed, to follow them over on horseback. Re- 
suming our journey we soon came to Boise or Wood river, 
which was crossed and then followed down to its mouth, 
where we again crossed Snake river in the same way as 
at first. All along Boise river there was an abundance of 
rabbits, the common cottontail kind such as are found here. 
The first mess of these procured on Boise river was shot by 
Mr. Knapp. I went with him and carried the rifle and the 
game, Mr. Knapp doing the shooting. He had the best 
rifle in the whole outfit — in fact the only real good one, and 
he was a good shot, but at this time was just recovering 
from the illness caused by eating too much salmon, and was 
not yet strong enough to carry the heavy rifle. In about 
half an hour he killed seven rabbits, scarce missing a shot. 

The country passed over along Boise river looked good 
to us, being thickly covered with grass about eight or ten 
inches high, but dry and dead at that time of year, and 
having a dark and evidently productive soil provided there 
was suflficient water for the growing plants. I have under- 
stood that this is one of the best parts of Idaho, and is now 
well settled and improved. Not long after crossing Snake 
river the last time, we came to the camp on Burnt river 
where we parted company and started on afoot. We took 
very little in the provision line from the train as it could 
not be spared — the only thing as I remember being a little 
of the dried buffalo meat that had been killed and prepared 
at the last camp on Platte river near Red Buttes, as pre- 
viously told. We had each a gun, a blanket or two, an over- 
coat, and among us a small tin pail and a frying pan, and 
one of the men. Root I think, had a watch. We could have 



64 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

taken more bedding but did not care to be burdened with 
it. I think every one had a little money left, and it was 
hoped that with it enough provisions could be bought from 
emigrant trains that we would overtake and pass, to keep 
us eating until the settlements were reached. We also took 
with us a black mare said to be of good stock, belong- 
ing to one of our company, with instructions to take her 
through if she could keep up, but if not to turn her loose 
and the owner would pick her up again if he found her. 
The mare was very thin, and seemed to be growing weaker 
all the time. We always turned her loose at night, and one 
morning she could not be found, and we did not care to tarry 
to hunt her up. 

We wanted to know about how much ground we cov- 
ered in each day's travel, and it was arranged that we 
should take turns in counting our steps, calling 1700 steps 
a mile. As there are 5280 feet in a mile 1700 steps would 
just about equal a mile, provided the one counting his 
steps or 'Spaces" as we called it measured just a little over 
three feet at a pace. In this way by noting by the watch 
the time it took to "pace" off one mile, we found that we 
could easily cover thirty miles a day, and in this way could 
tell just about how long it would take us to get to a place 
where we could get something to eat. That was really the 
problem that was to be solved — getting something to eat. 
We were all well, strong and happy. I liked that trip. Our 
guns were a burden, and almost of no use on the trip, as 
all the game we had a chance to shoot during the trip was 
one grouse that alighted near us on the side hill as we were 
eating breakfast, and one or two ruffed grouse, or pheas- 
ants found in the thick timber while crossing the Blue moun- 
tains. However, in the end, the guns helped us out, for on 
arriving at the Dalles, I sold mine for four dollars, and I 
think my cousin got five dollars for his. We had very poor 
luck buying provisions from the emigrants, nearly all being 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 65 

short themselves, and those that had a Httle to spare gener- 
ally felt that it ought to be kept for others that were short, 
who had women and children dependent upon them. This 
reason for not selling to us, and which was unanswerable, 
was given in a number of instances. Upon one occasion I 
had quite an adventure while trying to buy something to 
eat of a man belonging to a company that was in camp near 
where we stopped for lunch. I said stopped for lunch, but 
we could have no lunch that time unless I succeeded in buy- 
ing something. I bought for a dollar about as much bread 
as one can now get at a bake shope for ten cents, and was 
just turning away with my purchase, when a man belonging 
apparently, to another wagon asked, "What did you sell 
that bread for?" and began cursing the man that sold it, 
and declaring he would shoot him, went to his wagon and 
got a revolver. I thought there would be bloodshed, and 
did not know whether to offer to trade back, or to run. I 
did neither. The man who sold the bread never said a 
word, probably knowing that to be the best way, and pre- 
sently the other quieting down somewhat, approached me 
and said in an apologetic sort of way, "We are short our- 
selves, and haven't enough for our own women and chil- 
dren." I told him how we were fixed and he seemed con- 
siderably mollified. It is probable that some of the emi- 
grants let us have a little food when they really could not 
spare it — in fact I am sure that was the case. After cross- 
ing the Blue mountains, from the western slope of which 
Mt. Hood, one of the highest and sharpest peaks in the Cas- 
cade range was in plain sight away to the west, all white 
with snow, we came down upon the Umatilla river, where 
we found Indians that farmed a little, and they brought to 
us potatoes and dry shelled peas to sell. Our money by this 
time was gone, and in fact the Indians cared little for it 
anyway, not well knowing its value. They also had dried 
camas roots. The camas is a bulbous plant with a root or 



66 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

bulb something like a small onion. It grows in great quan- 
tities on the prairies of Central and Eastern Oregon and 
Washington, its beautiful blue flowers in springtime being 
so numerous as to give tint and color to the landscape. A 
camas prairie in early springtime is a lovely sight. The 
Indians dig the roots in great quantities, and prepare them 
for winter use. The taste is sweet and agreeable, and has 
the appearance of having been soaked in molasses before 
being cured. The saccharine matter, however, is in the plant 
itself. We had very little to offer them in trade. They 
would take powder and lead, but of this we only had a small 
supply. My cousin was trying to strike a bargain with an 
old squaw for some dried camas roots, but she was sharp 
and refused whatever he had to offer. Finally putting his 
hand in his pocket for something he was looking for he 
accidentally drew out a large smoked pearl button that be- 
longed on my overcoat and that happened to be in his pock- 
et. The squaw gave a scream of delight, pushed the bunch 
of camas roots towards him and seizing the button ran off, 
evidently thinking she had struck a grand bargain. My 
overcoat was double breasted, having two rows of smoked 
pearl buttons up and down in front. From that time on 
we could buy of the Indians anything they had to offer in 
the provision line as long as the buttons lasted. At last 
they were all cut off and the coat was tied together with 
strings. We had currency of the most acceptable kind un- 
til we reached the Dalles where there were supplies in plenty. 

I forgot to state that a day or two after we parted 
company from our train on Burnt river we overtook a young 
fellow whose name has been forgotten, if indeed, I ever 
knew it, but who was called Bud. He said he had left his 
company because they were short of eatables and was mak- 
ing his way alone. He had no money, no blankets, no over- 
coat, and nothing to eat. We felt sorry for him and took 
him in, and took care of him until we arrived at the Dalles 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 67 

where we left him when we took a canoe to go down the 
Columbia. He paid us off well, however, for helping him 
along, and gave us something to remember him by, for 
every one of us got lousy sleeping with him. We did not 
go by Walla Walla as had been intended, but cut off two or 
three days' travel by leaving it to the north, and going on 
straight to the Dalles. At the Dalles a settlement had been 
commenced. There were one or two board shanties, quite 
a large number of tents, and there were supplies of all kinds 
for sale. We were entirely out of money, but had one large 
smoked pearl button left, which, however, did not pass cur- 
rent with the white traders, but did serve us well, however, 
later on. We here sold our rifles, and nearly all our blan- 
kets and got something to eat and supplies, as we supposed, 
enough to last us to the Cascades of the Columbia. There 
were Indians here with big Columbia river canoes, wait- 
ing to take passengers down the river, the charge being 
four dollars each and board yourself. We found five other 
men, making nine in all of white men, and picking out a 
good looking canoe, manned by two Indians, pushed off 
down the Columbia. At the start it was a charming trip 
— the smooth, deep river, with clear water and high, bluffy 
shores — the bold range of the Cascade mountains in front, 
and seeming to grow higher and higher as we neared them 
— the bright sunshine overhead — the rocks and cliffs be- 
coming bolder and higher as we approached the mountains, 
and at last as we entered the gateway of the mountains the 
evergreen trees, covering the sides and crowning the sum- 
mits of the mountains nearest the river, and every now and 
then a cascade where some mountain brook came tumbling 
down from rock to rock, or poured over a high precipice, 
dissolving into spray before reaching the river. 

Soon after entering the mountains it began raining 
with a strong wind coming directly up the river from the 
ocean. The home of the Indians who owned the canoe was 



68 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

at the mouth of the White Salmon river, and here we land- 
ed and remained three days waiting for the storm to sub- 
side, and of course we ate up all our store of provisions 
before we got under way again. We were just about out 
of everything to trade on, and the Indians, finding it out, 
were good to us. We had no blankets left at all as I re- 
member, but there was lots of timber, some of it very large, 
which sheltered us from the wind and we took lodgings 
under a big fir tree that shed a good deal of rain, made and 
kept up a big fire, and got along pretty well. The Indians 
had some very coarse shorts, and we traded something, I 
do not remember what, for some of it, intending to make 
a cake and bake it in our frying pan, but it would not make 
dough that would hold together, but fell apart like bran, so 
we boiled it in the tin pail and called it mush — however, 
it was about half way between mush and soup. Then Wes- 
ley took the one remaining pearl button, and started out to 
trade. He found a squaw who had just caught a large 
white salmon, weighing probably thirty pounds, and struck 
a bargain for it. The squaw, however, insisted on dressing 
and cooking the salmon, and bless her that she did — it was 
the best job of the kind I ever saw. She split the salmon 
on the back, then run two or three long, slim sticks through 
it lengthwise, then two or three crosswise to keep it spread 
out wide and flat, stuck the long ends of the sticks in the 
ground, before the fire and roasted it, then when it was 
cooked, placing it on a broad, clean piece of bark, withdraw- 
ing the sticks, she placed it before us. 

At the risk of making this too long, one or two more 
things must be told. The storm over, we were taken on 
down the river, landing at the upper end of the Cascades 
or lower falls of the Columbia, and then walking five miles 
down over the rocks on the north side of the river to the 
foot of the falls, where was the little village called the Cas- 
<^-ades. Here, which was the head of tide water, and at that 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 69 

time the head of navigation on the Columbia, there was a 
steamboat, just arrived from Portland. The captain offered 
to take us to Portland and give us dinners, if we would help 
unload the cargo. This we gladly did, and by a Httle strat- 
agem which we worked on the cook, got our supper also, 
arriving in Portland after dark. The next morning Wesley 
and I crossed the Willamette river to the eastern bank, the 
ferryman agreeing to take us over on condition that we 
would pay at some future time if we ever came that way — 
which I am sorry to say we never did — it is still due. We 
went on up to Oregon City, there being then only one road 
up the river from Portland, and that on the east side. Ar- 
rived at Oregon City our journey over the Overland Trail 
was ended, and I immediately got work and soon had money 
enough to invest in a fine comb — the thing of all most 
needed. 



70 EARLY DAY STORIES. 



CHAPTER X. 
Wild Animals and Birds That Lived Here. 

It is doubtful which is the worse habit, to read only 
to be amused, or not to read at all. This is a general state- 
ment, and will not apply in every case, because it is entirely 
proper sometimes to read for amusement and relaxation. 
But if the object in reading is solely to be entertained, the 
habit is a bad one. One who reads only to be entertained 
or amused, and who receives no instruction from what is 
read, and only skims along to get the run of the story, and 
how it turns out in the end, injures his memory and unfits 
his mind for study or for profitable reading. All books 
should be written in such style, and the subjects presented 
should be treated in such manner as to be both entertaining 
and instructive. Such books as entertain only, and do not 
instruct, should in general be kept out of the hands of young 
people, because, while perhaps not absolutely hurtful in the 
stories they tell, they lead the mind in the wrong direction. 

In preparing all these articles it has been the intention 
of the writer to both instruct and entertain those that read, 
and especially the young readers, who can know nothing of 
these things only as they read about them. This chapter 
and two others to follow will describe portions of Ante- 
lope county, and perhaps also other parts of the state as 
they looked to the writer when first seen by him; and will 
also tell something about the wild animals and birds that 
were found here, and how some of these that were once 
plentiful have entirely disappeared, and how new kinds have 
come in and are now making this their home. It will also 
describe the habits of some of these wild animals, telling 
how they provide themselves with food, how they guard 
themselves against their enemies, and how they become wary 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 71 

and wild as soon as they are hunted by man. What would 
I give to go back again to the old times, and old scenes, and 
old neighbors of forty years ago ? It cannot be ! yet it fills 
my heart and my eyes full to think of and to write of it. 

About the 28th of May, 1869, we were camped near 
the east bank of Cedar creek^ on the northeast quarter of 
section 27, Oakdale township, on the land now owned by 
Antelope county, and known as the county farm. "We" 
means Solomon S. King and myself, who had come to look 
the country over, and if we liked it to select claims for our- 
selves and for several others. We had been running lines 
for two or three days both east of the camp in Oakdale 
township and south as far as the center of Cedar township, 
but had not crossed to the west side of the creek as yet. 
It was all new and wild everywhere. There were no signs 
anywhere that there had ever been a white man in the coun- 
try excepting in one place we found where probably a hunt- 
er or trapper had cut down a small cottonwood tree two or 
three years before, and excepting also the mounds and stakes 
made and set by the government surveyors two and a half 
years previous to this time. It was an ideal place to camp 
anywhere along Cedar creek. The water of the creek, flow- 
ing between steep banks, was deep and cold; fine springs 
of clear, pure water were numerous; there was an abund- 
ance of hardwood timber, plenty of dry wood, good grass 
and good shelter. We were not on a hunting trip and made 
no effort to get any game, except an occasional duck or 
prairie chicken, both of which were abundant. There were 
antelope in sight most of the time, and every day we saw 
deer and wild turkeys, and there were also tracks of elk 
in abundance, but we saw none of the animals themselves. 
We were in a great game country, but we were hunting 
land, not game. We thought we had found just the kind of 
country we were looking for, and we believed that we were 
the first upon the ground, as we had seen no signs of the 



72 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

white man excepting those just alluded to, not even the 
track of a wagon, since leaving Battle Creek, in Madison 
county. There were abundant signs of beaver all along 
the creek, but we saw none of the beaver themselves at 
that time. There were trees that had been cut down by them 
some years before, some of which we used for camp fires, 
and there were numerous fresh cuttings of little willow and 
Cottonwood trees which the beaver had drawn into the water 
and there eaten the bark. It is said that the beaver, when 
taking his meals, always sits with the hind parts in the 
water and while this statement is probably incorrect, he no 
doubt takes his food in or near the water. 

They live mostly on the bark of trees, such as cotton- 
wood, willow and poplar where it can be had. They also 
eat the coarse grass that grows in low grounds and swampy 
places along the streams. In one place in Oregon many 
years ago, while out hunting, I found a grove of little pop- 
lar trees, situated about twenty rods from the banks of 
a small river. Here the beaver worked at night, as is their 
custom. They had cut down many of these trees which 
were from two to three up to five or six inches through, and 
had then cut them up into lengths from a foot or so, to four 
or five feet long, according to the size, and then had drawn 
the most of them to the river where the bark had been eaten 
off. There was certainly a wagon load of these sticks in 
a bend of the river where it was still water, nearly all of 
which were without the bark, while in the grove were a 
dozen or more sticks just freshly cut, and all ready to be 
taken to the river, and there were also several sticks partly 
cut off and two or three trees partly cut down, but in no 
case was the bark eaten off except from those at or in the 
river. I have also seen one place on Beaver creek in Wheel- 
er county, Nebraska, where there was a beaver dam and 
pond that apparently held a large colony of beaver. There 
was no timber at all here, excepting some small brush, but 




Buck Antelope. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 73 

there were many acres of swampy ground covered with big 
grass and water plants that furnished the colony with food. 
While beaver generally do their work in the night, they 
sometimes are out in the day time but it is difficult to get 
a chance to see them. I have tried several times to get 
sight of a beaver, but succeeded only once. Several years 
ago in Sherman county, Nebraska, I came suddenly and 
silently upon a beaver sitting just at the edge of a pond. 
He was a big fellow, and we did not see each other until 
I was within a dozen feet of him as he sat at the edge of 
the water under a bank. He made a dive into the water, 
and swimming across the little pond went into a hole under 
water on the opposite bank. Beaver were quite plentiful 
here in the early days, and were probably found in all the 
streams of the county. Some of them were trapped, but not 
many. They are very shy and timid, and when persistently 
trapped, or when the country begins to settle, they will 
emigrate to new haunts. It is now against the law to take 
them in Nebraska at any season, and I hear that there are 
a few in the thinly settled parts of the upper Niobrara coun- 
try and that they are increasing in numbers. There is also 
said to be a colony of them on the Elkhorn river in Stan- 
ton county. 

It was thought best to take a look at the country on 
the west side of the creek, and as my comrade, Sol King, 
could not walk very far, from the fact that he had lost a leg 
while fighting for his country during the civil war, and as 
it was very difficult to ford the creek with a horse, he agreed 
to keep the camp while I looked over the country to the 
west. I went up the creek about two miles from the camp, 
and crossing to the west side on a fallen tree, placed my- 
self in line with certain objects on the east side of the creek 
that had been marked a day or two before, and that could 
be plainly seen, and tracing the line thus previously marked, 
soon came to a section corner. It will be remembered that 



74 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

this was in May, 1869, and that the government survey was 
made in October, 1866, therefore it was an easy matter to 
trace the section Hnes and locate the corners. The corners 
in this part of the county were plainly marked ; and gener- 
ally the mounds were well preserved, even many of the sight 
mounds could be plainly seen for a considerable distance. 
These sight mounds were made of sods, and were built up 
to the heighth of sixteen or eighteen inches at prominent 
places on the line, as a guide to the chainmen. It was thus 
very easy to follow the line and find the section corners. Of 
course the old men living here now who were here forty 
or more years ago, know all about these things, but I am 
particular in giving this description to make it plain to the 
young people how it looked here in the early days. The 
first section corner that I found was plainly defined, the 
mound well preserved, and the four pits from which the 
earth had been taken to make the mound were only partly 
filled with drift. The corner stake, however, had been 
burned off near the ground by the prairie fire of the pre- 
vious fall and the markings could not be read. I went on 
a mile west to the next corner where the stake was standing 
and in perfect condition. This was the corner of sections 
4, 5, 8 and 9 in Cedar township, just three miles east of the 
present village of Elgin. 

There is no landscape scene in nature more beautiful 
than a fertile, gently rolling prairie in spring time just as 
it cam.e from the hand of its Creator. And this spring 
morning in the year 18G9 I was gazing upon a picture in 
color, painted by the hand of the Great Master, using the 
earth and the sky for a canvas, and done in such a master- 
ful way as no other artist has ever been able to equal, or 
even successfully imitate. The earth was covered with a 
thick, bright green carpet of grass that waved and trem- 
bled in the breeze ; there were few if any flowers, for they 
seek the low grounds and the sheltered places along the sides 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 75 

of the ravines and in the valleys, but flowers were not need- 
ed in this scene. To the north and west the ground sloped 
gently upward to little low green rolls a quarter of a mile 
or so away that shut out a distant view in these directions. 
From the southwest around to the southeast and east the 
land was at first level, then there were gentle swells and 
undulations, and finally away to the south at a distance of 
six or seven miles were the high smooth green hills divid- 
ing the waters of the Elkhorn from those of Beaver creek. 
Nearby in the foreground to the southeast was a point of 
thick timber growing in and along the sides of a ravine that 
led away to the southeast to Cedar creek, narrow at the near- 
by point but broadening as it neared the creek, where it 
joined the strip of woodland that borders the creek and 
plainly marks its windings for five or six miles. I looked 
upon the picture before me with admiration, and thought 
then that I had never seen a more lovely landscape nor a 
more fertile soil. As I look back upon it after a lapse of 
more than forty years, I am now sure I was right. But the 
picture is not yet complete. I sat down upon the mound, 
and taking out my memorandum book, began to jot down 
the numbers and description of the adjacent lands. My 
thought was that almost anything in sight was good enough 
for a farm for anybody; and such it has proven to be. 
From that viewpoint, there was no land in any direction 
of all the thousands of acres in sight, with possibly the ex- 
ception of a half dozen rough quarter sections, that has not 
since become fine, valuable and very productive farming 
land. But to complete the picture; while writing in the 
memorandum book, I happened to look down at old Cap- 
tain, the dog, he v/as all atremble and crouched as if in the 
attitude of making a spring, and looking to the north, there, 
within thirty steps were five antelope looking upon us with 
apparent wonder. Probably they had never seen a man 
nor a dog before, and were curious to know what we were. 



76 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

The one in the lead began to stamp his fore feet at us, and 
to utter the pecuHar antelope cry of "tchew tchew" which 
they are apt to do when somewhat alarmed. Captain was 
waiting for the word from his master, for he was trained 
to wait until told to go. They were so near that I could 
have knocked one over with bird-shot, but I had no gun 
and we were in no need of meat, and it was not the season 
to kill such game, and besides it would have spoiled the 
picture. I said to Captain "Go," and he went like a shot, 
but the antelope is about the fleetest animal known, and 
they were perfectly safe. He was a fast dog, but the ante- 
lope is fleeter than any dog except possibly the greyhound. 
Captain could make an antelope get down to business and 
run straight, but he could not catch one in a fair race. They 
very soon all went out of sight over the little hill to the north, 
and I finished my notes and was ready to go when here 
came back the dog, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, 
and not more than thirty rods behind him were the antelope, 
trotting back to complete their investigation. The dog lay 
down lolling by my side, and I waited to see what the ante- 
lope would do. They did not come very near again, but 
circled around, stamping and uttering their peculiar "tchew 
tchew." Pronounce this as spelled, with the lips open, the 
teeth closed, forcing the air through the teeth, and you 
have it. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 77 

CHAPTER XL 
Wild Animals and Birds That Lived Here — Continued. 

In all the experiences of my life, nothing that ever oc- 
cured to me, or that came under my personal observation, 
has left upon my memory a more vivid or pleasing impres- 
sion than the occurrences related in the latter part of the 
last chapter. There I was, a stranger in the country, view- 
ing these scenes for the first time. Probably no white man 
had ever been in that place before, excepting the govern- 
ment surveyors. The soil was no more fertile, the lay of 
the land no more desirable, the scenery no more beautiful, 
and the location no better than could be found in scores of 
other places in the county; but here, what completed the 
picture and made it more beautiful and impressive, was the 
coming of those antelope into the foreground of the pic- 
ture, being chased away by the dog, and then following 
him right back again. If there is one word that more than 
any other fully expresses the feelings that possessed my 
whole being that morning, it is the word "enchanted," and 
this being the fact is probably the reason why it left an im- 
pression of such vivid clearness upon my memory. There 
were then, and are now, many places in the county which 
afforded a grander and sublimer view than the one describ- 
ed, but I had not seen them at that time ; in fact the whole 
of Antelope county in the early days, when it was as yet 
untouched and unmarred by the hand of the white man, 
presented a varied scene of symmetrical beauty, grandeur 
and loveliness that could scarcely be surpassed. How could 
the early settlers fail to be pleased, charmed and suited 
with what they saw before them? 

Many of the wild plants that once helped to adorn and 
make beautiful the landscape scenes are now nearly extinct 



78 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

or greatly diminished in quantity, having been turned over 
by the plow, or trampled to death by herds of cattle. Prom- 
inent among these is the wild sweet pea that was found in 
great abundance in the early days, especially where the land 
was somewhat sandy, giving color to the hillsides, and fill- 
ing the air with fragrance. It is eaten by cattle as greedily 
as is the grass, and being an annual, it is only a matter of 
time until it will be exterminated. What a pity it is, that 
the white man cannot enter into and possess a fruitful and 
inviting wilderness, just as God gave it to him, without 
destroying some of its most charming attributes. The wild 
animals have gone, and so have many of the birds, the wild 
flowers and the wild grasses have either gone or are going 
— only the landscape remains, but shorn of many of its most 
beautiful features. 

But to return to the wild things that were found here 
in an early day; the antelope were more numerous than 
any others of the larger animals, or in fact than all others 
combined. During the months of May, June and July they 
might be seen anywhere on the smooth prairie, either a sol- 
itary one, or in little bands of three or four, or an old doe 
with her two fawns, or sometimes a drove of a dozen or 
more. They are animals of the plains, and do not frequent 
the rough, hilly lands, nor the timbered tracts. They do not 
hide from their enemies, nor seek to conceal themselves, 
but lie out in the open where they can see as well as be 
seen. They depend wholly upon their senses of sight and 
smell to detect the presence of enemies, and upon their 
fleetness to escape. They stay out in the open, and do not 
seek shelter during storms. They feed upon almost every 
kind of weed that grows upon the prairie, but eat very little 
grass. I have observed our own tame antelope many times 
when feeding — in summer they would nip the weeds, leav- 
ing the grass untouched, and in winter would pick all the 
weeds from the hay leaving the grass uneaten, and al- 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 79 

though they had access to shelter, they never used it. The 
vension of the antelope has a very marked gamy taste, prob- 
ably from the fact of their eating weeds, and consequently 
it is not relished by most people as well as the vension of 
deer or elk; however, some people, and especially old hunt- 
ers, prefer it to any other meat. They were somewhat mi- 
gratory in habit, and generally did not stay here through 
the winter in great numbers. They would get together in 
large flocks in August and September, and while some would 
remain, the greater number would go west, to return again 
in April and May, to rear their young here during the sum- 
mer. They were not very wild and wary when found here 
by the first settlers, but they very soon became so. I am 
taking much more space to describe the habits of the ante- 
lope than will be given to the description of any other ani- 
mal, partly because there is a good deal of misinformation 
concerning the antelope, and partly because our county was 
named for the fleet, graceful little animal that once covered 
its prairies in such numbers. The male antelope has horns 
that when full grown attain the length of twelve or per- 
haps fourteen inches, each horn supplied with one small 
prong, hence they are often called the prong-horn. The 
females are hornless. Unlike other animals, such as the 
goat, sheep, cow, buffalo and others that have a hollow or 
pith horn, the antelope shed their horns annually. All ani- 
mals of the deer family, such as the elk, moose, caribou, 
common deer and many others have solid horns, and these 
shed their horns in the winter, and grow them in full again 
during the spring and summer. The antelope shed their 
horns in the spring, the new horn growing inside the old 
one, and the old shell becoming loose, falls off. When the 
old shell is shed, the new horn is soft and partly covered 
with scattering hairs. The new horn soon grows to attain 
full size, and the outside hardens, forming a new shell. 

Knowledge to be valuable should be exact, but some 



80 EARLY DAY STORIES 

of our best authors are frequently very inaccurate as to de- 
tails, and therefore their teachings are to a greater or less 
extent erroneous. As a case in point the following in- 
stances will be given, taken from Francis Parkman's "Cal- 
ifornia and Oregon Trail," page 105: "As we emerged 
from the trees a rattlesnake, as large as a man's arm, and 
more than four feet long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely ratt- 
ling and hissing at us ; a gray hare, double the size of those 
of New England, leaped up from the tall ferns ; curlew were 
screaming over our heads, and a whole host of little prairie 
dogs sat yelping at us at the mouths of their burrows on 
the dry plain beyond. Suddenly an antelope leaped up from 
the wild sage bushes, gazed eagerly at us, and then, erect- 
ing his white tail, stretched away like a greyhound." The 
foregoing sentences are elegantly written and are very in- 
teresting and instructive reading, but they convey informa- 
tion that will be very surprising to an old frontiersman who 
has read little or nothing of these matters, but whose stock 
of information comes only from personal experiences. Who 
ever heard a rattlesnake hiss? I have killed hundreds of 
them, and have talked with very many persons who hav^ 
seen and killed many of these reptiles, but I have never 
heard of such a thing as a hissing rattlesnake except from 
reading books. The Rocky Mountain rattlesnakes are not 
noted for their great size — in fact they are rather under- 
sized, therefore this one must have been a monster if the 
measurements are correctly stated. Who ever saw or heard 
of tall ferns in the foot-hills of the Laramie mountains, 
where these things occurred? Ferns grow only in a com- 
paratively damp soil, and here it was very dry — in fact, al- 
most a desert. Small ferns do grow higher up in the Lara- 
mie mountains where there is more moisture, but even then 
they are not tall enough to hide a hare. It would surprise 
an old plainsman to see an antelope leap out from the wild 
sage bushes, or any kind of bushes, for antelope do not 



V 



S,:% 



m . 



\ 



N . 



Doe Antelope. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 81 

hide; and still more to see him raise his white tail, for an 
antelope does not raise his tail when he runs, and if he did 
it would be too inconspicuous to be seen. And it is equally 
surprising that the antelope stretched away like a grey- 
hound — there are no two animals whose modes of running 
are more unalike than the antelope and the grey-hound. The 
running of a sheep and a grey-hound are as nearly aHke 
as that of a greyhound and an antelope. 

It probably will be considered presumptuous for one 
like myself who is almost devoid of learning, to criticise 
one of our standard authors; but I shall risk the hazard 
to my reputation to make the following statement : If from 
the descriptive works of Washington Irving, Francis Park- 
man and James Fenimore Cooper, the misconceptions and 
exaggerations were eliminated, their books would be con- 
siderably abridged in size, and would be of increased value, 
especially those of the last named author. 

On either side of the rump of an antelope there is a 
patch as large as a man's hand of snow-white hair, which 
is four or five inches in length, and that lies down flat and 
smooth when the animal is feeding or at rest; but when 
about to start to run, which is done with a wonderfully 
quick, light, springy bound, these patches of hair rise and 
stand straight up. If the reader should ever be so lucky 
and so happy as to hunt antelope, when the moment comes 
when he is trying to get a shot, it will be all right to wait 
for a better chance as long as the animal stands and gazes, 
or even stamps his foot and repeats his "tchew" "tchew," 
but when those white hairs begin to rise — shoot quick, or 
you will lose the chance. The antelope have their young 
right out on the open prairie, where there is no cover ex- 
cepting grass a few inches high. Several times I have 
found the young before they were old enough to run. They 
will then lie flat down with the under jaw close to the 
ground, and ears flat, as though pinned down, and they 



82 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

will not move if very young, but will suffer themselves to 
be taken up, without making the least effort to get away. 
Even then, in very short grass it is difficult to see them, 
as they lie so quiet, and their color harmonizes so perfectly 
with the grass. But the days of the antelope in Nebraska 
are numbered — there are probably none now this side of 
Wyoming. 

There have been no buffalo in Antelope county, so far 
as is known, since the settlements began, excepting as told 
in the history of the county. It was not many years before 
the settlement of the county that they were very numerous. 
I have never seen any place, either in Nebraska or Wyom- 
ing, where the skulls, bones and horns were more plentiful 
than they were here in 1869-70. The buffalo were very 
gregarious animals, living in large herds and going from 
place to place in search of pasture. Little need be said here 
about the buffalo, because their history and habits are pretty 
well known already. 

The mountain sheep were probably never found here 
because the country is not at all suited to their habits. They 
live only in a very rough mountainous country. Seventy- 
five years ago, according to the accounts of the old hunters 
and trappers, they were very plentiful in the Wild Cat range 
in Scotts Bluff, Banner and Morrill counties, and probably 
also in all the counties traversed by Pine Ridge, as that 
country is suited to their habits. 

The elk, and the black-tail and white-tail deer will not 
be described here, but will receive attention in the next 
chapter. 

There were panthers or mountain lions here many years 
ago, their range being along the Elkhorn and its timbered 
branches, and no doubt they were also then found on the 
Verdigris in Sherman and Verdigris townships. So far as 
is known to me, only one has ever been seen in the county 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 83 

since its settlement. At one time Mr. E. R. Palmer, one 
of the first settlers in Cedar township, was out hunting, 
when he started a panther on the west side of the creek, 
and followed it west nearly to the place where Elgin now 
stands. The animal was gray in color, as large as a large 
dog, had a long tail, and ran with bounds like a big cat. 
When it stopped to look back at him it turned its head only, 
and looked back over its shoulder, cat fashion. This is a 
peculiarity of all the cat family — they turn the head back, 
but do not turn broadside after the fashion of a deer or 
elk. Although it was followed several miles, there was no 
chance to get a shot, and it never was seen here again. I 
have seen a panther that I followed on the prairie and in 
the woods of Oregon, many years ago, that acted in pre- 
cisely the same way. 

About fifteen years ago I went to what is now Mor- 
rill county, Nebraska, to examine some land for an eastern 
party, and had occasion to run a section line through some 
rough, rocky hills that were covered with pine timber. This 
was in the immediate vicinity of the Wild Cat range, and 
was in fact just a point or edge of that range of mountain- 
ous country. It looked like a fine game country, and sev- 
eral times I ran across tracks of black-tail deer. I stopped 
with a man who lived on the smooth prairie about a half- 
mile from this rough country, and he told me the follow- 
ing story : 

'There have been two mountain lions Hving in this 
part of the country, but I have not seen them for about 
two years, and whether they have been killed or have left 
the country I cannot say. They probably have left, for I 
think I should have heard of it had they been killed. A 
great many people used to come here to get firewood and 
timbers from the scrub pines, but they do not come so often 
now, for a good many have left on account of the dry 
weather, but they used to come from as far away as forty 



84 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

miles, generally three or four teams together. About two 
years ago two men came, having a wagon and team each, 
and stopped at my well for water. They went down into 
the timber, got loaded up and camped over night, being all 
ready to pull out in the morning. The next morning they 
had harnessed the horses and tied them to the loaded wagons 
and fed them their grain, and were frying bacon for their 
own breakfast, when they saw the two mountain lions not 
far away, looking at them and sniffing the air as if they 
smelled the bacon. They did not come very near at first, 
and the men hooked up after finishing breakfast and pulled 
out, followed by the lions. One of the men had a rather 
small, short-legged dog, and the lions seemed bent on catch- 
ing him. They came up closer and closer, and would have 
caught the dog only he kept right under the front axle be- 
tween the wheels. One of the men had a loose chain on 
his load, which he would shake at the lions, and this fright- 
ened them some, but they followed on, almost to my house, 
when they turned and loped back to the hills." 

Of the smaller wild animals that were found here when 
the county was first settled, some have diminished in num- 
ber, and some have greatly increased. It was very seldom 
that a skunk was found, either the large striped kind or the 
small spotted variety, commonly but incorrectly called the 
civet cat. Now both varieties are numerous. Racoons, 
badgers, and wildcats are occasionally found now, but are 
not nearly as plentiful as formerly. The fox squirrel was 
here at first, but was very rare, while at the present time, 
being protected by law, they have greatly increased, and 
are found in the groves all over the country. 

There is one animal of the fox kind that has probably 
entirely disappeared. It is the small gray prairie fox, com- 
monly called the swift, so named from the swiftness with 
which it runs. It has none of the cunning of its relative, the 
red fox, and is easily trapped. These animals were quite 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 85 

common in the early days, but I have not heard of one hav- 
ing been seen for many years. They are probably exter- 
minated. 

Rabbits were very abundant in an early day, both the 
gray or cottontail, and the large jack rabbits. The cotton- 
tails are still almost as plentiful as ever, but the jack rabbits 
have been very much thinned out excepting where there 
are large tracts of pasture land, where they are yet quite 
abundant. 



86 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

CHAPTER XII. 
Wild Animals and Birds That Lived Here — Concluded. 

The black bear, the red fox and the Canada lynx have 
all been found in the eastern part of the state, in the hilly, 
timbered country adjacent to the Missouri river, but insofar 
as has come to my knowledge, none have been seen in 
Antelope county. The otter, mink and muskrat were found 
here when the country was new, and the mink and the musk- 
rat are yet about as plentiful as ever, but the otter have 
probably nearly disappeared. There was a time when the 
large gray wolves were abundant here — in an early day 
they were found everywhere with the buffalo. When the 
buffalo retired from this country the gray wolves went with 
them. It is probable that one was seen occasionally by the 
first settlers, but it was a rare occurrence. The coyote or 
prairie wolf has always been plentiful here, there seemingly 
being little or no diminution of their numbers. 

To sum up the matter: The last of the buffalo were 
seen here in July, 1872; the elk and the black-tail deer re- 
mained in diminished numbers five or six years longer; the 
white-tail deer were very scarce after the hard winter of 
1880-'81, but there was an occasional one seen until the early 
nineties. One was killed between Neligh and Clearwater 
by Geo. W. Rapp of Nehgh in the year 1891. A few an- 
telope probably remained as late as the year 1880, but they 
were not numerous after 1875 or '76. The big wolves, what 
few there were here, left with the buffalo, and the swifts, 
or prairie foxes, were killed or trapped or driven out before 
the year 1890. The beaver all left the country prior to 1880, 
but as it is their habit to travel from place to place a few 
have been in the county of recent years, and one was trapped 
in the Elkhorn about the year 1900. Now and then an otter 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 87 

has been seen in recent times, and the track of one was found 
between Oakdale and NeHgh in the year 1910. The last one 
killed, unless I am mistaken, was shot near Oakdale by V. E. 
Brainard in 1887 or '88. The only panther ever seen in the 
county is the one spoken of in the preceding chapter. These 
things are mentioned as I have had my attention called to 
them, and the dates given may not be exact in every in- 
stance, but they are approximately correct. Of course, some 
of these animals may have been seen in the county recently 
and that fact may not have come to my knowledge. 

Great changes have taken place among the birds that 
made this county their home, or used it as a stopping place 
during their migrations in the spring and fall of each year. 
Some kinds have left us entirely — others are yet with us in 
diminished numbers — others are as numerous as ever, or in 
some instances have actually increased in number, and there 
are a few new varieties now becoming common that were 
never seen here in the early days. Of the kinds that were 
common forty years ago, but that are now rarely or never 
seen, are the wild turkey, the raven, the magpie and the 
curlew. The magpies, however, are to some extent coming 
back again ; for the last two winters they have been seen 
in quite large numbers in the timbered ravines of Cedar 
creek. Of those that were common but are now very rare 
are the turkey buzzard and the plover. 

Among those that have greatly diminished in num- 
ber are the wild geese, the different varieties of brants 
and wild ducks of many kinds, also prairie chickens and 
sharp-tail grouse. Occasionally there has been seen here 
a pelican, a blue heron, a loon, and now and then a small 
flock of white swans, but this country is avoided by them 
of late years. Among those that have greatly increased in 
number are the blackbirds, robins, bluebirds, blue- jays, 
brown thrushes and quails. Among those that have about 
held their own are the meadow larks, turtle doves, cat birds, 



88 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

swallows, martins, night hawks, kingfishers, kingbirds, song 
sparrows, bobolinks, yellow-hammers, woodpeckers, the 
hairy, the downey and the red heads, and the Baltimore or- 
ioles. Of the new kinds that are now common, but that 
were either entirely unknown in an early day or were very 
rare, are the wood thrush, the rose-breasted grosbeak, the 
olive backed thrush, the peewee, and the orchard oriole. 
There are also two new birds that we perhaps could well 
do without — the crow and the English sparrow, but of this 
I am not sure. Of the birds that are remarkable for the 
beauty of their plumage or the rich melody of their songs 
that visit us occasionally may be mentioned the cardinal 
grosbeck, the scarlet tanager and the mocking bird. The 
mocking bird is quite common in the southern part of the 
state but is rare here; I have been hoping that they would 
visit us oftener. About two years ago, a Lewis woodpecker 
was seen by me for three or four days. He made his head- 
quarters in a dead box elder tree that had been left stand- 
ing for the birds, and from which he drove off a pair of 
flickers that were building a nest in a cavity. They are rare 
here, but are common farther west. 

Besides those already named we have in great abund- 
ance the tohee, the junco, at least two kinds of vireos, the 
indigo bunting, the gold finches, the wrens, the horned larks, 
the nuthatch, the brown creeper, the kill-deer, the chickadee 
and other kinds not so well known. I have attempted to 
name only those that are of the most common and best 
known varieties. There are very many kinds of birds, 
chiefly small ones, that visit our groves and thickets and 
the tall grass and weeds of our prairies, that I cannot even 
call by name. Prof. Lawrence Bruner says that there are 
as many as 400 dififerent kinds of birds found within the 
borders of Nebraska. 

I wish that some attention might be given to the sub- 
ject of bird study in every district s?hop} in the county. If 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 89 

every school district had at least one book that describes 
accurately all of our most common and useful birds, and 
if during the spring and fall terms this book was consulted 
two or three times a week, or even every day, and the chil- 
dren taught to name the different kinds of birds at sight 
from the description given in the reference book, and at 
the same time were taught the use these birds are to the 
farmers, it would create an interest in the subject, and we 
would soon have a county full of bird lovers, and it would 
result in a great increase in the number of these friends 
of the farmer. The county superintendent should see to it 
that some such book as ''Bird Neighbors," by Neltje Blan- 
chan, is used in every school district in the county. 

In early days Antelope county was a poor man's par- 
adise. I doubt if the Garden of Eden was more beautiful 
than was Antelope county before it was desecrated by man. 
I do not see how the Garden of Eden could have surpassed 
Antelope county in beauty, for God created both, and no 
doubt pronounced them both good. The results were dif- 
ferent — in the first case God drove man out of the garden 
— in the second case man drove out or marred many of the 
beautiful things that were found in Antelope county. He 
has driven out the elk, the deer, the antelope, the wild tur- 
key, the curlew, the otter and the beaver. He has ruined 
the prairie grass and all the most beautiful of the wild 
flowers ; but let him be given credit for what he has done 
by way of compensation. He has planted orchards and has 
dotted the county all over with thousands of acres of planted 
groves, which has partly changed the face of the country 
from that of native prairie to one of diversified prairie and 
timber, and by his railroads, telephones and telegraphs has 
made communication easy with all the rest of the world. 
If a strike occurs in the morning in the coal mines of Wales, 
or if the emperor of China abdicates his throne, or if there 
is an earthquake in Italy, we read of it in the evening papers. 



90 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

Therefore it may be that things are about evened up after 
all. 

The elk, the white-tail deer and the black-tail deer were 
all found here when the country was new. They are all 
closely related, but they differ a good deal in size, appear- 
ance and habits. I have seen quite a good many deer of 
both varieties weighed, after they were ready to ship for 
market — this means of course with the head and hide on — 
but I have never seen an elk weighed. A full-grown, white- 
tail buck when fat will weigh from 150 to 175 pounds, and 
sometimes a very large one will weigh 200 pounds — a full- 
grown fat doe will weigh about 50 pounds less than a 
buck. A black-tail deer will weigh about fifty pounds more 
than the white-tail when in the same condition, although 
a very large buck might weigh 75 pounds more than a 
white-tail. The elk is from two and a half to three times 
as large as a black-tail deer. 

The flesh of the doe elk is always sweet and good, even 
when the animal is thin, but it is at its best from about the 
first of September to the first of January. The flesh of the 
buck is good in July and August, but gets strong in taste 
and smell by the latter part of September, and is almost 
unfit to eat thereafter for four or five months. It loses its 
strong taste after a time, but the animal remains thin in 
flesh until about the next July. The flesh of both varieties 
of deer is nearly always sweet and good, but sometimes that 
of an old buck will taste somewhat strong if killed after 
about the first of December. During the spring and sum- 
mer the elk are scattered about over the country in small 
herds until the fawns are six weeks or two months old, when 
they invariably begin to collect in large herds, sometimes 
numbering hundreds in a bunch. In Nebraska, however, 
I have never seen more than sixty in a herd excepting on 
one occasion, and generally twenty to thirty was about the 
limit. In September the old master buck would drive all 



,^%'^i-<illyU,^ 



^^ 






1%.%-^ 



Prairie Hen. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 91 

the weaker and younger ones out of the herd, and would 
endeavor to keep them out, but this kept him very busy 
for a month or two. When driven out of the herd the 
smaller and younger bucks get together in twos and threes 
and thus keep together for company. A big old fellow, 
however, who has been the boss of the herd, but has been 
defeated in battle, keeps by himself and is avoided by the 
others, because of his surly, quarrelsome disposition. It is 
good sport to hunt and kill such a one, for he is almost sure 
to furnish a fine pair of horns, but his flesh is absolutely 
unfit to eat. Along in November they all get together again, 
and remain in large herds until it is time for the fawns to 
appear in the spring. The elk are keen of sight and scent, 
and they are very difficult to approach excepting by those 
who thoroughly understand their habits and peculiarities. 
When feeding, if on rolling or hilly land there are some of 
them always on some of the highest points where a look- 
out can be had in all directions. When they lie down to 
rest, they always choose a place where the lay of the land 
is such that they can either see or smell the hunter when 
he attempts to approach them. There will also be some on 
the high points that can see in all directions, so that it is 
difficult to approach from any direction without being dis- 
covered. When disturbed they will always .run into the 
wind, travel for four or five miles, then turn abruptly to 
the right or left for a quarter of a mile or so and then 
choose a spot similar in situation to the one they left, and 
either go to feeding or lie down again. It is easy to find 
them, because they are large in size, and generally go in 
droves, but it is not easy to get near enough for a fair shot. 

They cannot run nearly as fast as either kind of deer, 
but they show more cunning in out-witting their enemies 
than do the deer. The black-tail deer's home is in a rough, 
hilly country, and they are perhaps about the easiest game 
to kill where they have been hunted but little, that is to be 



92 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

found anywhere but when hunted much they become very 
watchful and exceedingly difficult to approach. It is sport 
to hunt them even when not very successful, because they 
live where there is wood, water, shelter, grass and every- 
thing necessary to a good camping ground. Half the pleas- 
ure in hunting comes from camping out in just the right 
kind of a place, one quarter comes from rambling over the 
country, seeing something new every day, breathing the 
fresh air and enjoying the bright sunshine and one quarter 
comes from looking for game and shooting it if you can. 
There is no animal that I have ever hunted that affords 
more real enjoyment than the black-tail deer. The black- 
tail deer does not seek to secrete itself by hiding in thickets 
of brush or in patches of big weeds nearly so much as does 
the white-tail. It is very apt to lie down near the top of 
a steep hill, or sometimes on the very top, where it can see 
in most directions and hear and smell in others, and where 
its color so harmonizes with the surroundings that it is not 
readily observed . It is almost sure to lie down where two 
or three bounds will take it behind some object that will 
protect it from the sight of the hunter. They are cunning 
and know how to take care of themselves all right. Their 
mode of running is different from that of the white-tail. 
They bound to their feet in an instant and spring away with 
quick, rapid bounds, raising all four feet from the ground 
at once, suggesting that they are jumping stiff-legged. They 
make rapid progress, however, and one has to shoot quickly 
or lose his chance. 

The white-tail deer are found on level lands where 
there is tall grass in which they can hide — along the edges 
of the swamps where there are willows, cat-tail flags and 
coarse grass — in hilly or rolling lands where there are ra- 
vines filled with big weeds, and along all streams where 
there is timber and brush or big grass. They were found 
all over Antelope county more or less, but more especially 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 93 

along the Elkhorn and its tributaries, on Willow creek and 
on the Bazile and Verdigris. The black-tail deer were found 
in the rough hills in the southwestern part of the county, 
on the Verdigris in the northwestern part, and to a very 
limited extent on Cedar creek. The elk traveled about from 
place to place, and were as apt to be found in one part of 
the country as another, and frequently for months did not 
come into the county at all. 



94 EARLY DAY STORIES. 



CHAPTER XIII. 
Hunting Stories — Antelope — White-tail Deer — Elk. 

When the first settlers came to this county there was 
great abundance and a great variety of game here. Ante- 
lope and white-tail deer were more plentiful than any other 
kinds of large animals, and elk and black-tail deer were not 
at all uncommon. Wild geese, ducks and brants were very 
abundant every spring and fall, curlew and plover were plen- 
tiful in the spring and summer, this country being their 
nesting place, and prairie chickens and sharp tail grouse 
were at home here winter and summer in great numbers, 
and wild turkeys were found along all the timbered streams 
and ravines of the county. The kind of season, whether 
wet or dry, made a good deal of difference as to the abund- 
ance of ducks, geese and brants. If the season was dry 
they passed over and did not alight in very great numbers ; 
but if the wet weather ponds were filled with water, these 
migratory birds would visit us by the tens of thousands. 

Almost every settler had a gun of some sort, either a 
rifle or a single or double barrel shot-gun, all, of course, 
being muzzle loaders of the old style, and nearly every set- 
tler did more or less hunting. If any were unable to kill 
any large game they could at least get a mess of prairie 
chickens or ducks, as occasion required. Some also made 
traps for catching prairie chickens, and some set small steel 
traps, baited with corn, in the edges of the wet weather 
ponds, for ducks and geese. Everybody had more or less 
game, and it helped out wonderfully, especially whenever the 
grasshoppers foreclosed their lien on our corn and gardens. 
After the Indian raid in the late fall of 1870, fifty army 
guns were furnished to a home military company by the 
order of Gen. Augur in command of the Department of the 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 95 

Platte. These guns were never called in by the govern- 
ment, and, as they were with one or two exceptions good 
shooting guns, were of large caliber and long range, and 
as fortunately they were not needed against the Indians, 
they did come in handy in enabling the settlers who learned 
how to use them to supply themselves and neighbors with 
fresh meat. Game in almost every case was hunted only 
to furnish a supply of fresh meat when needed. Deer and 
elk were not hunted in the spring or early summer, but 
antelope were hunted at any season when they could be 
found, but only the bucks were killed in the spring-time. 
As the antelope went west generally to winter where there 
was better winter pasture than there was here they were 
in better flesh in the early spring than were the buck deer 
— hence when we needed meat in the spring-time we usually 
hunted buck antelope. Of all the game that I have ever 
hunted, the most difficult to approach is the antelope, where 
they have been worried and shot at until they have become 
wild. They have a great deal of curiosity, and when an 
object that they do not understand is seen at a distance, 
they will approach to investigate, but will seldom come near 
enough for a shot, unless in a country where they have not 
been hunted. 

At one time when hunting for deer in a rough country, 
having had poor success in finding game, I followed up a 
ravine to the edge of a smooth undulating table-land that 
was two or three miles wide, thinking there might be ante- 
lope in sight. Peering cautiously through the tall grass that 
fringed the edge of the table, .there, within a quarter of a 
mile, were five antelope feeding. All kinds of wild animals 
are always on the lookout for danger. These antelope would 
feed for a half minute or so, then raise their heads and take 
a look around for possible danger, and then put their heads 
down again to feed. Some of them had their heads up and 
were on the look out for enemies all the time. As is always 



96 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

the case they were wary and watchful. I had a field glass 
with me and watched them for some time. With this glass 
I could plainly see their eyes, and could see the movement 
of their jaws as they chewed their food. They were too 
far off for a shot, and there was not the least cover after 
leaving the fringe of scattering tall grass at the head of the 
ravine where I lay concealed. I knew that if I rose up thev 
would be gone in an instant. Frequently, however, any kind 
of game will stop to investigate before running away if the 
object of their suspicion is lying flat upon the ground so 
that it cannot plainly be seen. I started to crawl toward 
the game, and although I could see them plainly all the time 
through the short grass, they paid no attention whatever 
to me. I think they did not notice me at all, from the fact 
that the sun being almost down, and at my back, its bright 
rays must have blinded their vision. It took quite a while 
to crawl forty or fifty rods, but I did it, and got an antelope 
at a single shot, but they were too far away for a second 
shot by the time I had thrown in another cartridge. 

At another time I was hunting deer in Cedar town- 
ship, and not having any luck, thought of trying a chance 
at antelope in the smoother country farther away from the 
creek. Following out a small ravine toward the head and 
climbing a steep bank, I caught a glimpse of two or three 
antelope just disappearing over a little hill not more than 
twenty rods away. Supposing they had seen me, I started 
on the run, thinking to get a long distance shot when they 
appeared at the top of the next rise of ground. But thev 
had not seen me at all, and on coming to the place where 
I had seen them disappear, they were found feeding in a 
little valley just at the foot of the hill. I got one at a run- 
ning shot, but had no chance to get in a second shot before 
they were out of reach. This was in September — we were 
out of meat and this antelope was very fat — it was a lucky 
kill. However, when a man hunts antelope in a country 




White Tail Deer. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 97 

where they are acquainted with the white man and his long 
range guns, he is pretty apt to come home gameless. 

One fall I was hunting in Garfield county and was 
camped in the sand hill country in a big thicket of willows 
at the very head of a little creek, a tributary of Cedar river. 
The weather had been cold, somewhat stormy and unpleas- 
ant, and we had been having poor luck, having succeeded in 
killing but one deer, and having found no fresh signs of elk. 
There had been five or six inches of snow on the ground 
which had thawed and settled down considerably, but it was 
still a pretty good tracking snow. I struck out early one 
very cold morning, the mercury, I should think, being down 
to zero, but there was no wind, and as walking is good ex- 
ercise there was no difficulty in keeping warm. After a 
mile or two of travel I struck a fresh deer's track and fol- 
lowing it cautiously soon started a fine white-tail doe. She 
was lying down among some little sand hummocks, and al- 
though she was not more than fifty yards away, I was not 
quick enough to get a shot before she was out of reach. 
Probably I followed the track for five miles before coming 
up with the deer again, but this time she was on the lookout, 
and saw me before I was near enough to shoot. I gave it 
up, and as the chase had led away from camp, I faced about 
and took a direction that would lead partly toward camp. 
Coming to the edge of a little sand hill valley covered with 
tall grass, I struck two fresh deer's tracks that were leading 
up the valley and directly toward camp. Taking a careful 
look with the glass, I saw the two deer about a mile away 
near the head of the valley, and just at the edge of the tall 
grass. This was my chance. When two deer are found 
together ,there is a good chance to get both, provided the 
first one shot at is killed on the spot. The other deer will 
then nearly always give a few bounds, turn broadside and 
look back for his mate; this gives a splendid shot at the 
second deer. If there are more than two deer together and 



98 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

one is killed, the others will generally get out as fast as they 
can without stopping. By keeping on the lowest ground, 
stooping over and walking half bent, and part of the way 
going on hands and knees, I managed to get within fifty 
or sixty rods without being seen. The ground now between 
me and the deer was perfectly level, and partly covered with 
grass waist high. I now made good progress on hands and 
knees without being discovered until I was near enough for 
a long shot, when all at once one of the deer had a glimpse 
of my hat, as my body was entirely hidden by the tall grass. 
I had taken the precaution to trim my hat with grass, so 
that it was completely covered, but the deer had seen the 
motion of my head. The nearest deer started at once to 
run toward me, followed by the other, as they will often do 
when they discover an object in motion near the ground. 
Had I been standing up straight these deer would have run 
off at first sight, and there would have been little chance 
for a shot. As it was, the nearest one came up within sev- 
enty-five or eighty steps and stopped to gaze. Rising care- 
fully to my knees, with the gun all ready for firing, I brought 
the nearest one down in its tracks — the other ran away, 
but stopped, turned broadside and gave a splendid chance 
for a shot as the tall grass did not interfere at all as it did 
in the first instance. I got both deer with a single shot 
at each, which is doing much better than usual. They were 
white-tails, a buck and a doe, and both in splendid condi- 
tion. 

Two things are necessary to make a first-rate hunter. 
The first essential is, to know how to find and approach 
the game — the second is to be a good shot. A man may 
be a first-rate marksman and a very poor hunter; on the 
other hand, he may be an indifferent marksman and yet 
be a pretty good hunter. To become a successful hunter 
one must study the habits of the wild animals, must know 
their haunts, how to approach the game, and where to ex- 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 99 

pect them to go if he lies in wait. He must be quick of eye, 
must love the sport, must have patience and perseverance, 
and must hunt just as carefully the last hour of the day as 
he does the first, and lastily he must be a fairly good shot. 
However, he will kill lots of game even if he is a poor shot 
if he has all the other qualifications mentioned. 

One fall in the early days I was hunting in Valley 
county, when the settlements in that county were very new 
and were confined almost entirely to the valleys of the 
North and Middle Loup rivers. The rough hill country was 
well supplied with black-tail deer; there were also a good 
many white-tail deer, and now and then a band of elk. I 
have never seen a better game country anywhere than was 
found in Greeley, Valley, Sherman and Custer counties in 
the early seventies. There were abundant signs of elk, but 
as yet none had been seen. I was hunting some very 
rough breaks on the south side of the North Loup, ten or 
twelve miles above the present site of Ord. I had seen 
many fresh signs of elk, and two or three times had heard 
them calling to one another with their long-drawn musical 
cry, which I cannot describe. There was no wind, and 1 
moved toward the elk cries very slowly and cautiously. 
Finally, just at the head of a deep blufify draw, perhaps fifty 
rods away, I saw two or three elk lying down where they 
could watch in my direction, and just beyond there, but out 
of sight, I again heard calls of other members of the herd. 
The ravine at the head of which these elk were lying was 
pretty well covered in the bottom with big blue-stem grass. 
By going down to the left a short distance I could keep out of 
sight, and reaching the bottom of the ravine could crawl 
up under cover of the tall blue-stem grass to a position near 
the place where the elk were lying. But the first thing to 
do was to trim my hat with blue-stem ; this done, I crawled 
on my hands and knees toward the elk. I must have gotten 
within a hundred yards before they seemed to be looking 



100 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

in my direction, and then they did not get up or seem to be 
at all alarmed. They no doubt saw the grass move, but could 
not tell what was there. I knew there was no danger of 
their running away until they began to show symptoms of 
alarm. Such a time is very interesting and exciting. It is 
worth a week of hard hunting to come to such a moment. 
You are almost sure of a good shot and of getting the game. 
Had there been a puff of wind in the direction toward the 
elk they would have scented the enemy at once, but even 
then there was a chance for a good shot before they could 
get fairly started to run. But they were not in the least 
alarmed — they saw something moving in the grass, but did 
not know what it was. Finally they got up very deliberately 
and the one nearest stood looking, breast toward me. It 
takes but an instant to draw a bead at such a time — the gun 
cracked, the elk turned, gave one quick strong bound and 
stopped — his frame began to tremble, he tried to run, but 
fell to the ground. The shot had struck low down in the 
center of the breast, and had passed clear through the vitals. 
I saw only three or four of the herd, but there was a great 
trampling and a clatter of hoofs as they got under way. I 
sent a shot after one of the others which crippled it badly, 
and probably inflicted a mortal wound, but I was unable 
in the rough ground and without a dog, to find it. This 
was the largest elk I ever killed, and one of the fattest. At 
that time I was working for the land department of the 
B. & M. R. R. Co., and the horns, a very long, heavy, twelve 
point pair, were sent by the company to England to be 
mounted in one of their land offices in the old country. 

It is not always easy to get game even where it is 
abundant. I have hunted hard all day in a good black-tail 
country when the ground was free from snow, and where 
game signs were plentiful, without seeing a single deer. 
When there is a tracking snow of course it is different, for 
then one can follow the tracks and get sight of the game. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 101 

even if he does not get a chance for a shot. And besides 
one cannot always bring down the game even when he has 
a fair chance. Every fair shot will not be a lucky one — 
there are bound to be a good many misses. I would say 
that a man who knows how to hunt game, and who is a 
fairly good shot, may think himself lucky if he kills every 
third time. 



102 EARLY DAY STORIES. 



CHAPTER XIV. 
Hunting Elk and Deer in Wheeler and Garfield Counties. 

I am unable to tell positively just when the events oc- 
curred that are related in this article. It was about the 
middle of the seventies, probably in 187G or 1877. 

Some time in the early fall, probably in September, 
Mr. George Clother, proprietor of the Clother House of 
Columbus, Neb., asked me to bring in a load of game to 
Columbus for sale, stating that he would buy for his hotel 
the hind quarters of an elk, or if elk could not be had, he 
would take a deer, but elk was preferred. He said also he 
thought there would be no difficulty in selling a load of 
game, and that he would help to find a market for it. I had 
never hunted for profit, but only for recreation and to sup- 
ply the table with meat. We were too poor to afford a 
beef animal, if we wanted a change in diet from fat pork; 
and besides pork was too scarce to be had at all times of the 
year, so that sometimes we were out of meat unless game 
could be had. These statements will apply with equal force 
to every family in the neighborhood as well as to my own. 
It was agreed with Mr. Clother that the elk meat should 
be furnished when the weather got cold, either in Novem- 
ber or December, provided it could be had ,and if not, then 
he surely might expect a good fat deer. 

That fall was favorable for husking corn, and it was 
all gathered early, so that by the latter part of November 
we were ready to start out upon the hunt. Hank was the 
only one who went with me, as this trip was meant to be 
one of profit, and it was not desirable to make a division 
of the proceeds among too many partners. Hank was a 
neighbor whose homestead was just a half a mile from my 
own. It was arranged that during this trip his stock should 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 103 

be turned in with mine to be cared for during his absence. 
What he wanted was to get some venison for his winter 
supply, and he was wilhng to go along for a small share 
of the game killed. It was therefore agreed that I should 
furnish everything for the trip, team, wagon, horse feed and 
provisions for ourselves, and that I should do the hunting. 
Hank on his part was to mind the camp, take care of the 
team, and do most of the cooking. For his share of the 
game, he was content to have one-half of the fore quarters 
of all game killed by me, and to have all the gamx killed 
by himself; it being expressly stipulated, however, that his 
hunting should not trespass upon his camp work, and that 
he should always get into camp in time to get supper and 
do the camp work before it became very dark. 

My gun used on this trip was an army carbine. Sharp's 
pattern, being a single shot breech loader, caliber 50-70 — 
as good a rifle as I ever hunted with excepting possibly a 
Winchester rifle that was used on several of my hunting 
trips. Hank if I remember correctly, carried an old style 
double barrel, muzzle loading shot gun with percussion lock. 
I think it was borrowed for the occasion, and even if it 
was old and out of style, it was still a good gun of its kind. 
He expected to get some grouse with it anyway even if he 
did not succeed in getting deer. On a hunting trip grouse 
come in first rate as an agreeable change of diet. 

Possibly I feel more vividly and hear more plainly the 
"call of the wild," than do my neighbors of the present day. 
Whether this is so or not I do not know, or whether this 
trait in me was inborn or acquired I cannot tell ; nor does 
it matter, but that I have it in an eminent degree is unde- 
niable. I hearken back to those old times with feelings of 
unmingled pleasure, not to say of rapture. Let us drop the 
thread of this story for a moment and go back to those 
golden days of the olden time. You may say that it is the 
reverie of an old man who has already passed his 80th birth- 



104 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

day, and it may be so, but if it be a dream, it is a pleasant 
one. Bear in mind that we are now considering conditions 
as they existed in 1876 and 1877, but the statements now 
to be made will apply equally as well to 1878 and 1879. 

The very strenuous days of the first years that attend- 
ed the settling of the county had passed away. The In- 
dians were no longer troublesome — the "grasshopper" had 
almost ceased to be a ''burden," and the ravages of the 
April storm of 1873, the worst ever known in the history 
of the state, were but a memory. Better times had already 
come to our new settlements, and still brighter days were 
in prospect. There was a buoyancy of spirit and a pervad- 
ing feeling of hope and expectancy that thrilled the minds 
and hearts of the people of the community to a much great- 
er degree than is apparent at the present time. There was 
a community of interest and a brotherhood of feeling that 
warmed the hearts of the people toward one another, and 
that prompted unusual interest in each other's welfare. 
People still lived in log houses, in sod houses and in dug- 
outs, but they saw that this would not always be. They 
looked for better things than they then possessed, and felt 
sure of their coming. The soil had been productive beyond 
their greatest expectations, and although they did not ex- 
pect to live to see their farms worth a hundred dollars an 
acre, they did hope to soon have good improvements on 
these farms, and to have all the other accessories of older 
communities, such as a railroad, market towns near by, and 
schools, churches and good roads. If they did not then 
possess all the conveniences and luxuries of our communi- 
ties of the present day they were also free from many of 
our present ills and afflictions. There were no mortgages 
falling due, for the loan agents had not yet invaded this 
territory. If they had no automobiles to get out of fix and 
to vex and worry the owners and spoil their tempers, they 
did have good driving teams and good saddle horses. There 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 105 

was no cornstalk disease among the cattle nor cholera to kill 
off the hogs. If they only had a weekly or semi- weekly 
mail, they needed no other, for this mail brought to them 
the New York Weekly Tribune and Harpers' Magazine for 
the old people, and Youth's Companion and St. Nicholas 
for the young folks. Their mode of life tended to create 
sound minds in sound bodies, and thus to promote ardent, 
hopeful temperaments. It seems to me that the future held 
out greater promise to the people of that day from their 
viewpoint than it does to the people of today from their 
viewpoint. But of this I leave the inteUigent reader to 
judge. 

But to resume the story : 

Everything had been arranged the day before so that 
the morning we were to start out, all that was necessary 
to do was to load up and be off. It was the intention to go 
southwest to the big Cedar river, striking it in Greeley 
county, and to follow it up until a good hunting ground 
was found. We did finally go to the head of the Cedar in 
what is now Garfield county, but was then attached to 
Wheeler county. Camp was made the first night in a grove 
of ash trees among the rough hills in the northern part of 
Greeley county. It was a dry camp, but the horses had 
been watered at the crossing of Beaver creek, and we could 
melt snow for coffee. The night was cold, but we had 
plenty of blankets and buffalo robes as well as good fire- 
wood, and the horses were blanketed as was usually the 
case on such trips. It snowed some during the day, and 
continued to snow a little through the night, so that in the 
morning the ground was covered to the depth of about two 
inches. 

The next morning going on toward the west. Hank 
drove the team, while I carried the rifle, going on ahead 
to get a shot if any game should be seen. Several deer 
were started, but no chance for a shot. The weather was 



106 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

■m _ 
cold and growing colder all the time, so that we were both 

glad to go afoot most of the day. Toward night the weath- 
er cleared, but the northwest wind continued to blow strong, 
and the cold to increase. Coming to the Cedar valley several 
miles above the place where Spalding now stands, we found 
a sod house and stable, the last up the valley at that time. 
The weather had become so very cold, and there being no 
good camping place close by, we asked for lodgings for the 
night and were refused. This was a surprise, because at 
that early day a stranger was supposed to be always wel- 
come. The place was occupied by two young men, recently 
from the east, who were not yet used to the ways of our 
wxstern world. The case was argued for a little while and 
finally reluctant consent to remain over night was given 
Before bed time we had become acquainted and were good 
friends. The next morning we were invited to stay until 
the weather moderated. At that time the mercury fell to 
twenty-two degrees below zero, so I afterwards learned, 
and the northwest wind did not fail us. We stayed two 
days and three nights during which time I did some hunt- 
ing in the rough hills nearby, but without result except 
that it furnished exercise and an appetite. 

The third morning, the weather having moderated, we 
pulled out up the river valley to the northwest. There was 
no sign of a road, nor had there been since crossing Beaver 
creek at Whipple's Ford in Boone county, a few miles above 
the present village of Loretto. We did not stop to hunt 
at all, nor did we see many signs of game until the middle 
of the afternoon when six or eight miles above the present 
village of Ericson, in Wheeler county, a white-tail doe 
jumped out of the tall slough grass near the river and stop- 
ped to look. She waited too long, for one shot brought her 
down. Going on a short distance, a black-tail buck was 
seen in the low sand dunes about half a mile away. It was 
not yet camping time, but as it would take some time to try 




i^ 



Coyote. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 107 

for the deer, it was decided that Hank should make camp 
while I tried my luck for a shot. It proved to be easier than 
was supposed — the deer was reached by crawling on hands 
and knees under cover of a low knoll, and was killed at a 
single shot. Camp was made and the deer brought in be- 
fore dark. This was luck — pure luck. We were traveling 
up the valley as fast as the team could walk but were not 
hunting, and we found these two deer without effort on 
our part. Wood was not to be had at this camp, and fire 
was made of coarse slough grass, cut with our butcher 
knives, and twisted into knots or little bundles before burn- 
ing. 

Next day we crossed what is now the east line of Gar- 
field county, and made camp in a thick bunch of willows. 
Signs of deer had become plenty, and there were also elk 
tracks not very old. We did not unload the wagon, but 
blanketing the horses and putting them on picket ropes, we 
ate luncheon and went off north together to prospect for 
game. There were signs of elk and deer, and we concluded 
that the right place had been found. About two miles from 
camp a black-tail buck jumped out from behind a knoll and 
starting to run was brought to the ground by one shot from 
my rifle. The buck was dragged to camp by hand, the job 
being an easy one as the snow here was deeper than it was 
further down the valley. The camp was made quickly; an 
old rag carpet stretched over eight little straight poles cut 
from the timber on my homestead, being used as a substi- 
tute for a regular tent. Nobody of my acquaintance at that 
time was rich enough to afford a genuine canvas tent. How- 
ever, our little tepee was comfortable. An opening was 
made by turning back the edges of the carpet on one side, 
and in front of this opening was the fire. We now had 
everything necessary for a good camp — a comfortable sub- 
stitute for a tent, good shelter from the winds afforded by 
the thick brush, water and grass handy, and plenty of dead 



108 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

willows for fuel. A pole was planted on a knoll nearby, 
and on this was hung a grain sack as a signal to locate the 
camp, as the tepee was hidden by the willows. 

The next morning I got an early start, taking along a 
luncheon and going west to hunt elk, although deer would 
be welcome if elk were not found. The country was sand 
hill, in some places consisting of low knolls and little flats, 
in others of big sand hills with blow-outs where the drift- 
ing sands had been scooped out by the winds, and in other 
places still, wide flats covered with heavy grass . I had 
not gone far, when on rising a little knoll I was met by 
a coyote coming on the run from the opposite direction. I 
was surprised at the suddenness of his appearance and he 
was badly scared. Turning quickly aside he ran off in a 
different direction. I thought I would try my luck at a 
running shot, and to my surprise the shot brought him 
down. Taking off the skin and tying it up in as small a 
bundle as possible so as to carry it easily I went on. Soon 
there were fresh signs of elk and going on slowly, and hunt- 
ing carefully, a band of thirty-six was found about four 
miles from camp. They were in a difficult place to ap- 
proach, but I was not sorry for this, because there is much 
more satisfaction in getting game when one has to work 
hard for it than when it is easily done. They were directly 
west, and on the farther side of a level hay flat that was 
half a mile wide. On the west and north of the herd were 
low, sandy knolls, on the south and southwest rather high 
sand ridges. The wind was moderate and was blowing from 
the southwest. The only way to reach them was to go 
north, then west and then come in from the northwest under 
cover of the low knolls. It took a long time, the distance 
to be traveled being about two miles, and in some places 
this had to be done on hands and knees. Finally under 
cover of big grass and a small knoll a good chance was had 
for a shot. By this time nearly all were lying down, some 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 109 

in the tall grass, and others on the knolls where they could 
watch for enemies. My cap had been trimmed with grass, 
and my hunting jacket of brown denim was dead grass color. 
Carefully I crawled to the top of the little knoll that had 
afforded shelter, poked the rifle barrel through the scattered 
stalks of grass in front, reached forward with the left hand 
to remove some grass leaves from between the sights, then 
took a peep along the gun barrel to see that everything 
was clear . This was a very interesting and a very exciting 
moment, but everything had to be done with great delibera- 
tion, for a quick movement would alarm a large cow elk 
that was lying on top of a little knoll not more than seventy- 
five steps away, and was looking right towards me, but 
whether she had seen me or not I could not tell. Every- 
thing was ready — I was sure of that elk. The sight was 
quickly caught, the trigger pulled, and I saw the hair curl 
on the breast of the elk where the bullet struck, and heard 
the "thud" of the ball as it went home. The elk sprang to 
her feet and was off in an instant with the balance of the 
herd, but I knew she could not go far. I did not stop to 
watch — I knew from the lay of the land and the direction 
of the wind just where the herd would run, and throwing 
in another cartridge I ran south a short distance, gaining 
the top of a low ridge just in time to see the elk fiHng by 
in the narrow valley before me. They were still very close, 
and two more shots in quick succession brought down two 
more elk. The one hit at the first shot had now left the 
others, and going a few steps to one side had partly fallen 
and partly lain down. A shot through the head soon after 
finished her. A parting shot was given the herd when they 
were some distance away and another elk was slightly 
wounded, but as it kept up with the herd and bled very little 
I followed only a short distance. By the time the three elk 
were dressed, which in itself was quite a job, it was night 
and I was four miles from camp. 



110 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

On the way to camp four white-tail deer were jumped 
up only a little way off to one side, and I fired twice at 
them by moon light but without danger to the deer. When 
within a mile of camp I came in sight of a fire that Hank 
had built on a hill to light me in, having carried brush on 
his shoulders a quarter of a mile for that purpose. The 
venison steak for supper that night was well cooked, juicy 
and delicious, the pancakes were excellent and the coffee 
never better. Hank had had good luck too, having brought 
down a fine white-tail buck with his shotgun. We now 
had a good load, four deer and three elk, and the next day 
after bringing in the game, we started for home by the 
most direct route, going back through the southern part of 
Holt county about a mile south of Willow lake. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. Ill 

CHAPTER XV. 
Hunting Elk and Deer in Custer County. 

It was the second week in November, 1872, while we 
were in camp on Oak creek in the western part of Howard 
county, Nebraska, that the events occurred that are herein 
related. Belonging to our camp were twelve persons — four 
surveyors, four assistants, two teamsters, one camp helper, 
and a cook. Five of these were from Antelope county; 
namely, George H. McGee, Bob, Will and Charley Skiles 
and myself; all the others were from Columbus, Nebraska, 
excepting one young man from Omaha. The company was 
in charge of I. N. Taylor, then of Columbus, but later of 
Antelope county, and who afterwards became well known 
to many of the early settlers of this part of the state. At 
this time Mr. Taylor was a member of the State Immigra- 
tion Board, its headquarters being in Omaha. The duties 
of this office called him to Omaha occasionally, and as he 
was required to go to Lincoln to confer with the officials 
of the land department of the B. & M. railroad company, 
it happened that he was away from camp about half the time. 
Whenever Mr. Taylor was called away from camp to be 
gone a few days, he would, before going, call the four sur- 
veyors into his tent and give them instructions about the 
work to be done in his absence, but he never placed any one 
in charge of the camp. This was an unfortunate mistake 
on his part. There were two or three men in camp who were 
shiftless, and who would shirk duty at any time when they 
could, and these men were almost worthless in Mr. Taylor's 
absence. He ought when absent to have left George H. 
McGee in charge — he was equally as competent as Mr. Tay- 
lor himself, and was popular with us all. 



112 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

Let me here pay a tribute to the memory of George H. 
McGee, not by way of praise, but as a deserved encomium. 
Work in the field such as ours was at that time, brings out 
and shows off all the qualities of the man, whether good or 
bad. We were in camp together that fall for seventy-five 
days, and I got to know Mr. McGee well. He was thought- 
ful and deliberate, always displaying under all circumstances 
an unruffled temper and a genial disposition. He was one 
of the strong, true men among those who settled Antelope 
county. 

Our work was to survey and plat the lands belonging 
to the B. & M. railroad company. The plats were intended 
to show the topography of each quarter section, and the field 
notes accompanying these plats were to describe the quality 
of the soil, and to give the comparative value of each quar- 
ter section for farming purposes. 

The reader will bear in mind that the year 1872 was a 
very early day in the history of Nebraska. All central Ne- 
braska at that time, excepting a narrow strip along the U. P. 
railroad, was either wholly unsettled or just beginning to 
settle up. Oakdale contained only four or five houses — 
Neligh had not even been platted — Albion had three or four 
houses and was called Hammond. There was not a village 
in Greeley, Valley nor Sherman counties, and St. Paul, 
Howard county, was just starting. Our field work when 
it first began on the second day of September, was within 
the limits of the scattered settlements, but for the last four 
weeks the work had taken us just to or beyond their west- 
ern border. 

The work was not hard or difficult, and the outdoor 
life was very agreeable. Very seldom, if ever, have I put 
in the time for two months and a half at any kind of work 
that was more congenial to my nature than this work in the 
fall of 1872. Besides we were seeing a country that was 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 113 

new to us, and were becoming intimately acquainted with 
the character of the country over which we traversed and 
worked. The table was well supplied, Mr. Taylor seeing 
to it that in addition to bacon and salt pork, a quarter or 
half a beef was provided when needed. However, as the 
extreme frontier was approached game became plentiful, and 
Mr. Taylor finding that my rifle could be depended upon 
to supply the camp with venison, had quit sending off for 
fresh beef, and he expected me to supply the outfit with fresh 
meat. As game was easy to get, it was not difficult gen- 
erally to do this in addition to doing my regular work. My 
rifle would be taken along, either by myself or helper, and 
when game was killed, some one would be sent out to bring 
it into camp. However during the first week in November 
we were out of venison and had to come down to salt pork, 
the bacon also having been exhausted. By extra exertion, 
however, I succeeded in killing a deer, and marked the place 
so it could be found next day by one of the men from camp. 
Mr. Taylor at this time was away on a trip to Lincoln and 
the men left in camp refused to go after the deer, it being 
in a somewhat difficult place to reach, as a bad creek had 
to be crossed. I was vexed, and expressing my opinion in 
language more emphatic than complimentary of the men 
whose place it was to go after the venison and would not, 
threw down my rifle declaring I would not carry it another 
day — they might eat salt pork. My work the next day would 
lead me in a different direction, but Mr. McGee, whose work 
would take him within three or four miles of the deer, vol- 
unteered to bring it to camp. This he did, he and his as- 
sistant carrying it a considerable distance to the place where 
they had left a team. I think everybody in camp was more 
or less upset over this episode, excepting Mr. McGee, whose 
even temper continued as calm and placid as ever. When 
Mr. Taylor returned this deer was about all used up, and 
we were on the brink of getting back to salt pork again. I 



114 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

had kept my word and had not used the rifle again at all, 
although two or three others had borrowed it without any 
success in getting game. I did not intend to say anything 
about it to Mr. Taylor, but on his return someone told him, 
explaining why we were out of fresh meat. Mr. Taylor 
sent for me and I went to his tent, partly expecting a repri- 
mand for not using my rifle. However, he said nothing 
about it, but explained that I was to start the next morning, 
with Bob Skiles as my helper, for the valley of the Middle 
Loup river, in Sherman county, to examine and report on 
the timber found on railroad land. He instructed me to first 
make the necessary examination, and then to hunt until we 
had killed a load of game for the camp. That is how there 
happens to material for this story. 

Getting an early start next morning we followed up 
the valley of Oak creek seven or eight miles, passing the 
place where the village of Ashton now stands, and then 
turning to the southwest made our way over the rough 
divide for about twelve miles to Middle Loup valley. We 
had a team of horses and a wagon to carry the camping out- 
fit and bring back the game that it was expected would be 
killed. Of course we took none of the small supply of veni- 
son still left in camp, there not being a quarter enough to 
last the camp until our return. We expected to get a deer 
before reaching the Loup valley, but none were seen, and 
game signs were scarce. We struck the Middle Loup a 
mile or two below the present site of Loup City, where there 
was a Cottonwood grove in which we encamped. While Bob 
put out the team and made camp, I started out with the com- 
pass and tripod to find a section corner and get a start to 
begin work. This was easy, for the survey was new, hav- 
ing been done only a few years before, and the government 
mounds were plain and most of the corner stakes stand- 
ing; and besides the prairie had been burned only a few 
weeks before which exposed the mounds that otherwise 



EARLY DAY STORIES. ^ 115 

would have been hidden by the grass. The job of locating 
and examining the timber was a short one and was com- 
pleted in two or three days. There was no game seen, how- 
ever, while we were at work, and only an occasional fresh 
track. It had all left the burned over country. I was glad 
of this, for now in going up the valley to find a good hunt- 
ing ground, there would be a chance to explore some new 
country. 

Following up the valley several miles we found a tract 
that was not burned over, in the southwest corner of Valley 
county, near the present site of Arcadia, and here we made 
the first camp. It was nearly night, and while Bob did the 
camp work I went out with the rifle to get some venison for 
supper. It should have been easy, but it was not. I got 
two fair standing shots and missed them both. This was a 
bad beginning, but such things will happen sometimes. I 
could account for it only because it was almost night, and 
the sky was overcast making it difficult to see the gun sights 
plainly. 

The next day our luck changed. We went afoot up 
the valley four or five miles to the Custer county line, where 
we found a good place to camp should we wish to move, 
and while there saw a band of elk a mile perhaps up the 
valley, coming down out of the hills toward the river. Here 
was the game we wanted. Great care was necessary in ap- 
proaching them. Probably this was our only chance to get 
elk, and we knew it, because usually there is only one band 
of elk in the same neighborhood. They are always alert, 
looking out for danger. It is much more difficult to ap- 
proach a drove of thirty or forty elk than to approach a small 
band of five or six, for the reason that they are spread out 
over more territory, and it is difficult to keep hidden from 
all of them at once . We watched them until they came near 
the river bank, when they stopped and some of them be- 
gan to feed. Near the river was a tract of low land, some 



116 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

of it swampy and covered with willow brush. This afford- 
ed cover so that we could walk rapidly most of the way, 
only now and then having to stoop, or crawl on hands and 
knees. And now a very unusual thing happened. While 
going through the willow brush we came upon first, two 
deer lying down not more than twenty steps away. They 
got up, made a few jumps and stood looking at us until we 
were out of sight. We had scarcely left these two, when 
we came onto three more deer, a large buck and two does, 
not more than sixty steps away. I drew a bead on the buck, 
then taking down the gun said to Bob : "We are after elk 
— these deer if they want to be shot can wait until tomor- 
row." They were not at all alarmed, and ran off only a few 
rods. There was little difficulty in getting within easy gun- 
shot of the elk. They had now all gone into the river, some 
of them having reached the opposite bank, and some having 
stopped on a sand bar in mid stream. We were lying flat. 
Bob at my right hand — the elk had seen us but were not 
alarmed. I said, **Bob you take one on the right hand, I'll 
take one on the left and shoot when I count three." We 
each got an elk, one falling in the river the other getting to 
the opposite bank. I fired the second time and wounded 
another, but as it could almost keep up with the herd we 
did not follow it. Bob felt proud enough — it was the first 
time he had ever killed any large game. We could not drag 
a whole elk across the stream by hand, and the quick sands 
were too treacherous to use the team ; we therefore skinned 
out the fore quarters and leaving them to the wolves and 
ravens and drawing the skin from the fore quarters back 
over the hind quarters so as to keep out the sand, we drew 
the hind quarters to the north bank of the stream. We had 
just time enough left before dark to move camp to the place 
already selected near the Custer county line. We now 
wanted two or three deer to make out the load. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 117 

Next morning Bob volunteered to stay in camp, boil 
some elk meat and make a pot pie for dinner while I tried 
to get a deer. First I hunted through the willow thickets, 
but the deer were not there. Next I went north to the hills, 
going but a short distance before I ran onto a large black- 
tail buck which was killed with one shot. Next I turned 
to the right, thinking to hunt through the low hills and make 
camp by noon, so as to be in time for the pot pie. But the 
pot pie had to wait, for I met with one of the strangest ex- 
periences I ever had in hunting, and did not get to camp 
until two or three o'clock. Before coming to the valley I 
found a short, deep canyon, with banks almost perpendic- 
ular, and going in at the head of it thought I would follow 
it to the river valley. I had gone but a short distance be- 
fore I saw a perfectly fresh deer's track in the sand at the 
bottom of the canyon. It was a very large track and was 
going down toward the valley. Thinking the deer was 
probably going to the river for a drink, and that there would 
be a better chance at him if on high ground, I climbed the 
bank of the canyon and followed along its course expecting 
every moment to come in sight of the deer. But I did not 
see him. On reaching the place where the canyon came 
out into the valley I found that the deer had gone clear to 
the mouth of the canyon, and instead of going to the river, 
had turned and gone back up the canyon again. The tracks 
were very plain in the sand. I now followed the tracks up 
the canyon and had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile when 
on turning the point of a steep bank I came suddenly upon 
the deer not more than forty steps of¥. My gun was already 
cocked, but before I could take aim the deer was out of sight 
going up a short, steep side draw. He came in sight again 
just as he went out of the pocket at the top and taking a 
snap shot at him I fired, not expecting to hit. Going to 
the top of the bank, the deer was found lying on his side, 
and trembling or shivering as if he was cold. Taking out 



11« EARLY DAY STORIES. 

my knife and stepping on one horn and holding the other 
with my left hand, so that he could not throw his head about, 
I stuck him, and jumping quickly back out of the way picked 
up the rifle. The deer, after considerable effort got upon 
his feet and started to run down into the canyon again, the 
blood streaming from his throat. He fell before reaching 
the bottom but rolled the balance of the way down the steep 
bank. The ball had passed through the neck between the 
cord and the neck bone. This buck was a whitetail, the 
largest one I ever killed of that species. He was a twelve 
pointer and I have always kept the horns, using them for a 
hat rack. Although we did not have a full load of game, 
it was thought best to gather it up the next morning and 
go back to the camp on Oak creek, knowing they needed 
the meat. Next morning, therefore, we went into the hills 
to get the deer. On the way out I killed two more, and 
coming back got another. We now had five whole deer, 
and the hind quarters of two elk making a good load. That 
night the weather turned intensely cold and the Loup river 
froze over. Before night the next day we were gladly wel- 
comed back to camp, with the game which was greatly 
needed. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 119 

CHAPTER XVI . 
A Summer Hunt. 

Most of these stories are of hunting trips in the fall 
and early winter when game is at its best — This one will 
tell of a summer hunt. 

In the fall of the year we hunted not only for meat to 
be used while fresh, but also for meat to be salted and kept 
in brine like beef, for winter and spring use, and also for 
drying. I remember that one fall, we had on hand a two 
bushel grain sack, filled as full as it could be tied, with dried 
deer and elk meat, and also a barrel full of salted meat in 
brine. There was no bone in any of the dried meat, and 
none in any of the salted elk meat, but the salted deer meat 
contained the ribs only. Together with what fresh venison 
we had through the winter, and that was a liberal amount, 
there was more than we could use, and toward spring we 
gave away to the neighbors a considerable part of the salted 
meat. 

Our hunting trips in the fall of the year took us fre- 
quently as far away from home as fifty or sixty miles, and 
lasted from a week or ten days to three weeks for each trip, 
the one to Wyoming in 1888 taking about four weeks' time. 
Our summer hunting trips did not take us far away from 
home, nor did they last very long, because it was necessary 
to bring home the game as soon as possible after it was 
killed in order to take care of the meat Detore it spoiled, 
and besides, there was not much time to use in hunting at 
that season of the year. In the summer time we used to 
keep the meat in good condition by salting it slightly in 
crocks, then placing the crocks in a big covered box, sunk 
in the ground and so arranged that the water from a cold 
spring flowed through the box. Butter was also kept sweet 
and cold in the same way. 



120 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

At one time when we had some venison and several 
rolls of butter stored in the manner described, there came 
a heavy rain, the creek raised about fifteen feet during the 
night, washed away the bank, bringing down tons on tons 
of earth upon the box, covering it so that it could not be 
rescued without a great deal of labor. The box with its 
contents is there yet. 

In the fall of the year we killed whenever there was a 
chance, the bucks, the does and the fawns, but generally 
from preference selected the bucks and large does if there 
was a chance to do so. The fawns grow very fast, and by 
the middle of November are half as large as their mothers. 
All these game animals were very fat in September and 
October, but by November the bucks begin to lose flesh. The 
wild grasses of Nebraska were very nutritious, and the does 
and fawns kept fat all winter if the snow was not deep, but 
in severe winters they would become thin before spring. In 
the spring and summer it was our custom to shoot the bucks 
only, sparing the does for the sake of the increase. 

In the early spring the best game to be had was buck 
antelope. The antelope mostly went west to spend the win- 
ter where there was less snow than here, and where there 
was an abundance of winter feed, such as the buffalo and 
gramma grasses. When the antelope began to return to 
this country from their western winter resort, the bucks, 
while not fat, were in good condition, and made the best 
venison to be had at that time of year. We hunted very 
little in the spring, and that only nearby home to get a buck 
antelope now and then; excepting that on two or three oc- 
casions we made a trip to capture young fawns. However 
thin and poor the game might become during the winter 
months, it fattened very quickly after the spring grass start- 
ed. The same remark will equally apply to domestic stock 
of all kinds. The value of our' natiye grasses and other 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 121 

forage plants as a pasture for stock forms a very interest- 
ing subject, and possibly may furnish material for a special 
article at some future time, but not now, — this is a hunt- 
ing story. 

Almost every year in the early days, we made a trip 
just before harvest time to get fresh meat enough to last 
at least a part of the time through harvesting and stacking. 
Upon the present occasion, S. S. King, generally known as 
Sol. King, of the Cedar creek settlement, went along to look 
after the camp. All the old settlers will well remember S. S. 
King. He was a veteran of the civil war, having lost a leg 
in the service of his country. While he could do little or 
no hunting, he was a good cook, a good camp keeper, a good 
smoker, and one of the most entertaining of story tellers; 
all desirable qualities in a camping companion. It may be 
also that D. E. Beckwith was along — I am not sure. He 
was out with me on several occasions but whether at this 
time or not is uncertain. 

We started from Cedar creek going almost directly west 
and passing about a mile north of where Elgin now stands. 
While in the low sandy knolls, between Elgin and Clay Ridge 
we drove near a Httle band of antelope, that stood watch- 
ing us, not seeming to be at all alarmed. We were riding 
in the wagon, and it often happens that both deer and ante- 
lope will stand and look, without showing alarm, when driv- 
ing by with a team, and yet they would run at first sight of 
anyone on foot. It was a long shot to make, and little chance 
to hit, except by accident. The team was stopped, and drop- 
ping from the wagon on the side opposite the game, rest- 
ing the rifle against the hind wheel, aim was taken at a single 
antelope standing in full view on top of a little knoll. 

The rear sight was not raised, but instead aim was 
taken at a point a little above the shoulders of the antelope, 
with the thought that the ball might fall enough to strike 



122 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

about the middle of the shoulders. As the gun cracked the 
antelope gave a bound and fell, then hobbled over the knoll 
out of sight. Going to the place, it was found partly lying 
down just beyond the knoll, and a shot through the head 
finished it. The shot had broken both fore legs at the knee 
joint. It was a chance shot, and I have been very sorry 
that I did not step the distance. The longest successful shot 
I ever made when the distance was determined, was two 
hundred and thirty paces, at which distance I once killed 
an elk in Wheeler county. I think the shot at this antelope 
was somewhat longer, but am not sure. The weather at 
this time was very warm with a bright sun. We cut off all 
the thickest of the meat, rubbed it with salt, and spread it 
out on an old tarpaulin on top of the load to dry. In the 
evening, it was hung around the camp fire and thus dried 
and smoked. It cured perfectly. The bones and thin mxcat 
were boiled, and it lasted us until more game was killed 
When on such a trip it is easy to cure meat in this way if 
the weather is clear, by giving it sunshine in the day time, 
and the heat and smoke of the camp fire at night. It can 
even be done without salt, but it is much more palatable if 
it is first rubbed with salt. 

On this trip the mosquitos were very bad. I have never 
anywhere seen the mosquitos worse than they were in the 
sand hills of Nebraska in early times, and that it putting it 
pretty strong, but none too strong. They were bad enough 
in the clay lands where the grass was big, but nothing like 
the sand hill country. In the sand hills, excepting in a very 
dry season there were hundreds of little ponds with more 
or less water, and filled with a growth of coarse grass and 
rushes, the breeding place of billions of mosquitos. That 
country is much drier now than it was. There are thou- 
sands on thousands of cattle and horses to feed down the 
grass, and the mosquitos are not a quarter as thick there 
now as they were formerly. The first night out we scarcely 




Elk or Wapiti Deer. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 123 

slept at all. It was too warm to sleep with the head covered, 
and quite impossible to sleep with it uncovered. The only 
way to get any sleep was to keep up a thick smudge and 
sit or lie where it could reach one's head. Without doubt it 
was as hard on the horses as on ourselves. The second night 
out was at first, just as bad, and finding it impossible to 
sleep, I went out where the horses were picketed, and rubbed 
the mosquitos off their necks and legs, their bodies being 
blanketed, which helped some. Near the camp was a big 
blow-out, and thinking there might be a little breeze stirring 
near the top I went there to investigate. There was no wind, 
but near the top there were fewer mosquitos. The blow-out 
was a big one, the hollow covering nearly or quite half an 
acre, and being probably twenty feet deep, and all clean, 
bare sand. I went down into it, and there was not a mos- 
quito there . I had learned something. Going back to camp, 
we carried the bed to the blowout and there slept until after 
sunrise, without hearing the music of a single one of the 
pests. We also spent the next night in the same place with- 
out being bothered at all. 

The morning after our first night in the blow-out, we 
were late getting breakfast, and we ate it on the rim at the 
top of the blow-out, so as to be where we could look over 
the country for game. While eating breakfast we saw a 
herd of elk about a mile away to the southwest. They were 
feeding, and were working slowly to the north. After 
breakfast we saddled the horses and started after them. 
They were now out of sight, but had not seen us and were 
not alarmed. We rode perhaps a mile to the southwest, and 
then turned north to follow the elk, keeping behind the 
shelter of the sandhills, and riding near enough to the top 
of one frequently, so as to l6ok sharp ahead, but never show- 
ing ourselves on any high place. While doing this we came 
upon a wolf lying asleep in the tall grass. He had not heard 
nor smelt us, and we watched him for a minute or two, un- 



124 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

til he was startled by a noise made by one of the horses. 
He was a surprised and very badly scared wolf and lost no 
time in getting away, throwing his head from side to side 
frequently while running so as to look back to see if he was 
pursued. We had not long followed the elk until they were 
seen about half a mile away. They had quit feeding, and 
were lying down, three or four of them posted on high 
knolls, from which they could keep watch in every direction. 
The horses were left with Sol who was to keep out of sight 
while I made the approach. This was the most difficult job 
of approaching, in hunting elk, that I ever had to do, in 
which I succeeded. I had a number of other times to give 
it up, and wait until the next day, but this time I got my 
elk after two hours work. It was easy enough to get within 
about three hundred yards of the game as I judged the dis- 
tance, but a shot at that distance was too uncertain, and I 
was unwilling to take the chance. I was lying on the south 
side of the narrow rim of a small blowout, from which point 
four or five elk were in plain sight, one of them a large 
buck lying on the very top of a knoll. If I could only get 
a dozen feet nearer to him, there was a chance to get into 
a little valley with a knoll beyond that would shield 
me from view. There was only one way to get into this val- 
ley without being seen and that was to dig through the rim 
of a small blow-out. By crawHng over the edge of the blow- 
out, the elk would surely see me — by digging through the 
narrow rim, he might or might not see me. If he did dis- 
cover me and showed alarm, I would fire, if not I could get 
near enough for a sure shot. With my hunting knife and 
my hands I dug a trench through the loose sand wide and 
deep enough for my body, and crawled through into the 
little blow-out and then into the little valley. If the elk saw 
me, which is not probable, he was not alarmed. This en- 
abled me to reach a place where I got a sure shot. When 
the ball struck he bounded to his feet, and sprang down the 
opposite side of the knoll out of sight, but fell before going 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 125 

a dozen rods. We cut the meat all off the bones, rubbed 
salt into it, and smoked and dried it by the fire and in the 
sun until partly cured. We did not have good luck with all 
of it however, as we found on reaching home that some of 
the larger pieces were tainted, but the most of it was good. 
This was a big elk, one of the largest I have ever killed; 
he was fat, and had a heavy pair of horns that were in the 
velvet. 

We made many other short summer trips with varying 
success, sometimes getting game, but not always ; but at no 
other time were we so pestered with mosquitos as on this 
occasion. 



126 EARLY DAY STORIES 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Hunting Near Home. 

These stories are as leaves taken from my own book 
of memory. And how real, how vivid, how natural and 
clear these things seem to me now. As I write them down 
I am living over again the wonderfully bright and fascin- 
ating life of forty years ago. I see again the vast expanse 
of smooth rolling prairie, with its rounded hills, its long, 
smooth, gentle slopes, culminating at a distance of four or 
five miles in a broad swell somewhat higher than the rest, 
the dividing ridge between two water courses. In an op- 
posite direction, and perhaps a mile or so distant can be 
traced the course of a timbered creek, winding its sinuous 
way back and forth from one side to the other of its beauti- 
ful and luxuriant valley, still in a state of nature just as 
God made it, but holding in its embrace scores of embryo 
farms, with a soil, it may be, the richest on earth. Tracing 
the course of the creek to its confluence with the broad val- 
ley of the Elkhorn one beholds a magnificent picture, un- 
excelled in lovliness anywhere, even if it does not quite 
match in grandeur, views to be had among the mountains 
or along the shores of the ocean. No landscape picture is 
quite complete without its hills, its plains, its groves of tim- 
ber and its streams of water. All these were here in pro- 
fusion and perfection, in the early days. They are here yet, 
but with the marks of man's interference to so great an 
extent that their original superb beauty has been almost 
effaced. 

But the picture as drawn is not quite complete. To 
be perfect and true to nature it would hold some of God's 
wild creatures that were here in abundance in the early 
days. Three or four little bands of antelope should surely 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 127 

be in sight, some of them so far off as to be indistinctly 
seen unless on some prominent hill, while others are so near 
by as to be plainly visible and easily counted, their natural 
curiosity having been so aroused that they are already ap- 
proaching to investigate the intruder, coming within forty 
or fifty rods, stopping to gaze, then bounding away, and 
again approaching from a different direction, until either 
satisfied or alarmed they strike out for good, stopping to 
take a last look from the top of a ridge half a mile or more 
away. Who that has a love for nature or a soul for the 
beautiful could fail to be enchanted with such a scene ? And 
yet such scenes were so common in the early days as to be 
little thought of and lightly appreciated by many of the early 
settlers. It seems too bad that these things can be looked 
upon and enjoyed no longer. Why did not the government 
reserve two tracts, each twelve miles square, in each one 
of the western states for a home for the deer, the antelope 
and the wapati, or elk? These preserves should have con- 
tained both rough and smooth land as well as timber and 
water, and would have been available as homes for the wild 
animals and pleasure resorts for the people. But in this 
utilitarian age these things are not thought of. 

As I look backward I almost wonder that I ever could 
have been hard hearted enough to help destroy these beau- 
tiful and innocent wild animals. However we did not hunt 
them solely for sport, and seldom for any purpose except 
when needed for food, and we never wantonly destroyed 
them. On two occasions only, when money was very scarce, 
and game very plentiful, did I kill any for market. It is 
a fact, however, that their disappearance was inevitable, from 
a country such as we have, that ranks high as a farming 
district. As the country filled up with farms, the wild ani- 
mals had to go, and although this is an unpleasant thought 
to contemplate, it could not have been otherwise. 



128 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

It is therefore all the more a pity that reservations were 
not provided while the country was yet new, and the wild 
animals plentiful, where they could be confined by woven 
wire fences, and cared for and fed in severe winters. And 
what a lovely resort such a place would be for campers and 
pleasure seekers in which to spend their summer vacations. 
What a magnificent game preserve and pleasure resort could 
have been made of Verdigris, Sherman, Garfield and Royal 
townships in our own county, with their springs and streams 
of pure, cold, soft water abounding in trout, its unrivalled 
scenery and unmatched facilities for a pleasant outing. 

The winter of 1880 was a bad one. Probably none of 
the old settlers have forgotten how the winter begun with 
a bad storm about the middle of October, and how that 
October snow remained upon the ground in some places 
until the first of the next May ; of course being covered over 
and over again by subsequent snows. That was a bad win- 
ter on the deer — they were plentiful here before that, but 
very scarce thereafter. The hunters, the wolves and the 
hard winter killed them about all off. 

That fall, 1880, I did some hunting around home, the 
last I have ever done in Antelope county. The corn was 
not all husked, in fact the most of it was still in the field 
when the storm came, and the deer in our Cedar creek neigh- 
borhood, and probably elsewhere also, got into the habit of 
coming into the cornfields and getting their share of the 
corn at night. We had had no venison that fall before the 
storm, and as we all wanted some, I started out with my 
rifle about the last of October to try my luck. I soon found 
a buck's track leading out of a cornfield on the farm of 
H. W. Swett, now owned by Dr. Nelson of Oakdale. The 
track led north, going straight toward Oakdale. I followed 
as fast as I could easily walk where the ground was smooth, 
but soon the track led down into a ravine filled with big 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 129 

weeds. This was on the place now owned by Abe Simmons, 
and here I began to go very slowly, and to watch carefully, 
expecting the deer at any moment to jump out of his hid- 
ing place in the big weeds. This he did, but the result was 
not just what I had expected. I was walking along the 
ravine ten or twelve feet up its side with the rifle at a ready, 
and when the deer rushed out, instead of firing at him as 
was intended, my feet slipped and I sHd down clear to the 
bottom of the ravine. Shaking off the snow, and cleaning 
it from the gun barrel which was filled with it, I took the 
track and followed on. The deer soon came down to a walk 
showing that he was not greatly alarmed. I soon came up 
with him again, this time finding him lying down in the 
weeds and grass, in a little basin or sag in the land, on the 
place now owned by George Hunter, and not more than 
forty rods south of the place where the Hunter house now 
stands. This time I got in a shot, but he ran almost a mile 
before he fell, going nearly half way to Oakdale. I found 
him lying dead just east of the Putney place. 

But a single deer, even if it be a big one, does not last 
long in a family of good size, especially where there are 
plenty of neighbors. In a few days we were out of venison 
again. There had been another snow storm by this time, 
but it did not drift like the first one, but it covered the prairie 
grass so that the whole country was white. This time I 
made ready for the hunt by pinning a white cloth over my 
cap and wrapping a sheet around my shoulders, so as to 
cover the arms also as much as possible. When about a 
mile from home, I started five deer at a place now called 
the Swett Hill, in the southern part of Oakdale township. 
The deer were in the deep ravine about a dozen rods below 
where the iron bridge now stands at the crossing of the 
little creek. The deer ran up the north bank, and near the 
top ran into a big snow drift that hindered them considerably 
causing them to run slow. I fired and got one, but could 



130 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

not get in a second shot before they were too far away. 
Dressing the deer, I followed on after the others and found 
them in a patch of brush in a ravine, not more than forty 
rods from the place where Ben Moon's house now standi. 
I think I saw the deer before they saw me, but could see 
no way to approach them near enough for a shot without 
exposing myself. I therefore lay flat down and crawled 
through the snow until near enough for a pretty fair shot. 
Selecting the one that appeared to be the largest I fired. 
The deer made two or three jumps and fell in the bottom 
of the ravine. The others ran south but stopped soon after 
reaching the top of the bank, when I fired again and missed. 
As soon as this second deer was attended to I started again 
on the track. The next time I came upon them they were 
lying in the open prairie on the place now owned by N. P. 
Swanson. There was no chance this time, and they ran 
when I was almost a quarter of a mile away. I then did 
not expect to get another shot, but as they ran southwest 
which was almost in the direction toward home, I followed 
on, when about a mile west of the Morris Murphy farm I 
struck a draw, the head of which was filled with sumach 
bushes and big weeds, and from this cover the three deer 
jumped out. There was a chance for a good running shot, 
and that shot brought down the third deer. A second run- 
ning shot was taken but without effect excepting to increase 
the speed of the game, the shot falling behind and throwing 
up the snow where the ball struck. It was now getting well 
along in the afternoon, and I struck out for home as soon 
as the last deer was dressed. I learned from C. P. Mathew- 
son of Norfolk, a successful hunter himself, that if a hand- 
kerchief or any piece of cloth that had been upon one's 
person, was tied upon a stick or weed near any game killed, 
neither the big wolves, nor the coyotes would touch the 
game. I found from experience that this was true. The 
wolf is a very cowardly and suspicious animal, and will not 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 131 

approach game when so protected. I always made a prac- 
tice of doing this when it was necessary to leave the game 
out over night. In the morning I have often seen wolf 
tracks in the snow only a few rods away, but they did not 
dare to touch the game. The next morning I went with 
the team and sleigh and brought in the three deer. 

Sometime in the seventies, but I cannot tell just when 
I had a very peculiar experience in hunting in this same 
neighborhood. I started on horseback, having a very ex- 
cellent riding mare, but she was nervous, and somewhat 
afraid of a gun, and of the game, especially if it was close 
by. This time also, I found the track of a big buck that 
had been feeding in one of Mr. Swett's cornfields during 
the night. Dismounting and leading the mare, so as to be 
ready to shoot quickly when the game started, I came upon 
this deer lying down in a ravine on the George Hunter place, 
perhaps a quarter of a mile southeast of the place where the 
house now stands. Only the head and horns and part of 
the neck could be seen, and these not very distinctly. Aim- 
ing as well as I could at the neck, the head dropped at the 
crack of the rifle. Going up to the deer intending to stick 
him, I stepped on one horn so as to hold his head down, 
but the mare was afraid and kept pulling back on the bridle, 
the deer in the meantime kicking with his hind, and strik- 
ing with his fore feet. I had to give it up, and looking 
around for a place to tie the mare, saw some big weeds a 
dozen rods away that would answer the purpose. Having 
tied the mare, I picked up the rifle and turned to go back 
to the deer, when to my surprise I saw him running up the 
bank of the ravine nearly a hundred yards away. I fired 
but of course the shot missed him. This was the first case 
of this kind that I had ever met with. I followed on, not 
having a doubt that the deer would be overtaken and killed. 
The tracking snow was good and the track easy to follow. 
I rode the mare to the place where the deer crossed Cedar 



132 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

creek about two miles south of the Oakdale mill. As the 
creek was bad to ford I gave up the chase for the day, and 
going home, waited until the next morning, when I took 
it up afoot. The next morning, after following the track 
for a mile or so, I came upon his bed where he had lain 
through the night in a thicket of brush. From this place 
the track led northwest, going almost toward Neligh. Fin- 
ally I started him out of another thicket, but the brush were 
so thick that there was no chance to shoot. He then ran 
almost directly west, and when I overtook him again he was 
lying down on a sandy knoll watching for me. He saw me 
and started to run when I was a quarter of a mile away. 
This was almost directly south of Neligh and not more than 
two miles from the town. I gave it up. The wound had 
entirely stopped bleeding, excepting a little where he had 
lain over night, and no doubt the deer got well. 

Afterward I had a similar experience when hunting in 
Custer county, as already related in a previous article, al- 
though that time I did not let the deer get away. Also at 
another time Mr. E. R. Palmer and I lost an elk in a sim- 
ilar manner when hunting in Garfield county. 

Sometimes deer used to cross the sandy track south 
of Neligh, going back and forth from the north branch of 
Cedar creek to the Elkhorn near the mouth of Antelope 
creek. One winter in the seventies I struck such a track 
that was coming to the Cedar. I found it about two miles 
southwest of Neligh. The deer was walking very slowly, 
examining every thick bunch of tall grass, evidently look- 
ing for a place to lie down. It needs careful hunting at 
such a time unless one is content to take chances at a run- 
ning shot. When not more than a mile and a half from 
Neligh the track entered a little circular valley, containing 
four or five acres and covered, although not very thickly 
with tall grass. From the rim of the basin where I was 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 133 

standing the whole surface was in plain sight, and it seemed 
that a jack rabbit could not hide there without being seen, 
there being five or six inches of snow at the time. The 
rifle was raised and all ready to take aim, but after carefully 
scanning the valley and seeing nothing of the deer, I took 
the gun down and started to follow the track. Just then 
the deer jumped out, not more than ten rods away and 
started to run. I fired wounding him badly, but did not 
think it necessary to give a second shot, although there was 
plenty of time to do so. The deer ran a little south of east, 
crossing the road running south from Neligh just at the 
pond where Alexander McKay was drowned only a year 
or so before. Within another quarter of a mile I came upon 
the deer lying down on a knoll not much more than a mile 
from Neligh in a straight line. A shot through the head 
finished him. 

There are many pleasant recollections connected with 
the lives of the wild animals aside from the interest in hunt- 
ing them. There was one old buck that seemed to make 
his headquarters on the north branch of the Cedar, that was 
very cunning, and for a long time eluded all attempts to get 
him. I made several trips to the north branch on purpose 
to hunt him, but without avail. I got three or four shots 
at different times, but always under a disadvantage — he 
would never leave the brush until he was entirely beyond 
reach. After a time D. E. Beckwith killed somewhere in 
that vicinity a very large buck corresponding in size and 
the appearance of the horns to this one. As the old fellow 
was not seen afterwards in his customary haunts, he prob- 
ably fell to Mr. Beckwith's rifle. 

One summer there were two deer that used frequently 
to come and Hck the salt where we salted the cattle, less 
than a quarter of a mile from and in plain sight of the house. 
One winter there were ten antelope that frequently came to 



134 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

feed on the stubble ground near the house, sometimes com- 
ing so near that one of them could have been shot from the 
door. Toward spring there were only eight of them, two 
having either strayed away or been killed. We never dis- 
turbed or intentionally frightened these animals that seemed 
to have learned not to fear us. Ah well ! those times are past 
— gone forever, leaving a sad, but yet a pleasant memory. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 135 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Hunting and Camping Lore. 

To make a hunting trip thoroughly complete and en- 
joyable one of the chief requisites is a good camp. Re- 
member that I am now speaking from experience gained 
during my own hunting trips chiefly in north Nebraska, but 
also to some extent in Wyoming and South Dakota. This 
extended over a period of thirty years, from 1868 to 1897 
inclusive. I did hunt some, but not a great deal prior to 
1868, but have hunted none at all since 1897. My hunting 
was done mostly during the months of September, October, 
November and December, when cold storms, either of rain 
or snow, were Hkely to occur, making a good sheltered camp 
all the more necessary. The best shelter possible for a camp 
is a dense thicket of brush — nothing else makes so perfect 
a wind-break. The next best shelter is a steep bank — not 
a hill, but a bluff as nearly perpendicular as possible, to pro- 
tect the camp on the north and west. The camp should be 
only a few feet away from the bluff, and the camp fire 
should be directly against its steep side so as to throw the 
heat immediately upon the camp. In the sand hill country 
I have several times found a good camping place in an old 
blow-out. These blow-outs are formed by the wind scoop- 
ing out the sand from the northwest side of a big sand hill, 
and drifting it over to the southeast side, until it forms a 
circular hollow in the hill sometimes fifteen or twenty feet 
deep, and makes on the southeast side of the hill a bare 
sand bank just like a great snow drift. These blow-outs 
are scooped out by the wind, sometimes in a dry time to 
such a depth that when deep snows come in the winter, 
followed by heavy rains in the spring, the water level is 
raised so much that the deep blow-outs become filled with 



136 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

water to the depth of several feet. After a series of years 
the shape of the hills in the vicinity of a blow-out some- 
times becomes so changed that the wind ceases to act upon 
it. The blow-out then, in a short time becomes grassed 
over, and being protected from the winds on all sides, makes 
a fine sheltered place for a camp. 

There should be wood and water near the camp, and 
also good grass for the horses. It is better, however, to 
carry the water necessary for the camp for a considerable 
distance, rather than to make camp in an exposed place. As 
to fuel — there are always dead bushes, either willows or 
plum brush that have been killed by the fire, whenever the 
camp is made in a thicket. In the sand hill country there 
are always dead and well seasoned red roots that make a 
very hot fire that lasts well. The red root is a shrub that 
grows almost everywhere in the sand hill country, except- 
ing on the low ground. It has roots from one to two inches 
in diameter that are often uncovered by the wind, thus 
causing the shrub to die. It usually takes but a few minutes 
to gather up a big armful of them. Sometimes also cotton 
wood, ash or hackberry trees could be had for fuel. A big 
camp fire is not necessary either for pleasure or comfort, 
but a well sheltered place for the camp is absolutely neces- 
sary, and a small camp fire with enough fuel to often re- 
plenish it is sufficient. 

We never used a tent until some time in the nineties — 
in fact we had no tent and it cost too much to buy one when 
the financial condition of those times was considered. In- 
stead of a tent we always used an old rag carpet thrown 
over some poles, tepee fashion, and it was just as comfort- 
able and made us just as happy as though we had the best 
kind of a canvas tent. 

If we camped in the sand hill cour^try it was usually 
our habit to plant a pole on top of some prominent peak 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 137 

near camp, and on this hang a grain sack, or an old coat 
as a signal. The sand hill country all looked very much 
alike, and this helped sometimes to bring in a straggler, 
especially if the day was cloudy. If the camp was on a 
stream of water, such a precaution was not necessary, the 
stream being a guide to the camp. 

As to the best kind of gun to be used in hunting, there 
is a chance for a great diversity of opinion. Before our 
modern breech loading guns came into use I had hunted 
some with the old style muzzle loading rifles, and also with 
a double barrel muzzle loading shot gun. With the old muz- 
zle loading percussion lock rifles I killed two antelope and 
seven deer, and helped to kill one buffalo. With the old 
style shot gun I killed one antelope, two elk, and about 
twelve deer, having forgotten exactly how many. Since 
December, 1870, I have used breech loading guns only, hav- 
ing hunted more or less with the Maynard, Smith & Wesson, 
Ballard, Sharps, Remington, four styles of the Winchester 
rifle, and also the army Springfield rifled musket. I had the 
best luck with the Springfield rifled musket, or needle gun 
as it was called, the Sharps carbine, both of which carried 
a caliber 50 bullet weighing 450 grains and taking 70 grains 
of powder, and the Winchester repeater caliber 45-75, my 
preference above all being for the Winchester. I have had 
no experience with the modern small bore high power rifles, 
they having come into use since my hunting days were 
passed. I think the only reason why I had better luck with 
the three guns last named than with any of the others was 
because they carried a heavier bullet than the others not 
because they were more accurate shooters. A heavy bullet 
will bring down a deer or an elk, when a light one will only 
wound the animal, and unless there is a tracking snow, even 
if the wound is finally fatal, the game is liable to be lost. 
Any rifle without regard to caliber, that is sure fire, and 
that will shoot true, will answer to hunt deer with, but if 



138 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

the caliber is small the bullet must reach a vital spot or the 
game is very likely to get away. I knew a young man who 
killed a large black bear with a 22 rifle, but the bear was 
shot in the brain at a distance of not more than thirty steps, 
while he was eating wild berries. Such cases however are 
extremely rare, and even where deer are plentiful and not 
very wild much better results would be had by using a large 
bore gun than by using a small one. It is the weight of 
the bullet that tells. 

In this connection it is proper to consider the distance 
at which a rifle shot is pretty sure to find the mark. There 
is much misconception upon this point with people generally. 
It is commonly supposed that a good hunter, with a good 
rifle, can easily kill deer at a distance' of four hundred or 
five hundred yards. Such is not the case — at such a distance 
no hunter, no matter how good his gun, would kill once in 
five shots, and probably not once in ten. I believe that in 
all miy hunting, the average distance at which game was 
killed would be considerably less than a hundred yards — 
probably not more than seventy-five yards, and the same 
statement will apply to all others with whom I have hunted. 
Of course I have often made much longer shots, but I early 
found out b}^ experience, that long range shots were very 
uncertain. There are reasons for this that will be explained. 
If a rifle is sighted with "level sights" — that is, if the front 
and rear sights are exactly the same distance above the bore 
of the gun barrel there will be no elevation or upward trend 
of the bullet when fired, and in one second after leaving 
the muzzle of the g^^un that bullet will fall about sixteen feet. 
Now how does this work out in practice? My Sharps car- 
bine, an excellent gun, was sighted for one hundred yards, 
and when fired at a target at that distance the bullet did not 
fall perceptibly, but at a hundred and twenty-five yards it 
would fall about two or three inches, and at a hundred and 
fifty yards about six or eight inches. My 40-82 caliber Win- 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 139 

Chester, which was the strongest shooting gun I ever used, 
when fired at a mark a hundred and eighty-five yards off, 
the ball would strike about eight inches below the mark. Of 
course all these hunting rifles have sights that can be raised, 
and they will all shoot to kill at a half mile or even a mile 
or more. But there are so many difficulties in the way when 
shooting at game beyond the distance to which the gun will 
carry with "level sights," that it is better not to shoot at 
all under such circumstances, but rather to wait for a better 
chance. In shooting at long range, the distance must be 
correctly estimated so that the rear sight can be properly 
adjusted, the rifle must be held with great steadiness, which 
is not easy to do, the eye sight must be very sharp so as to 
distinctly see the game, the direction and force of the wind 
must be taken into account, as it is liable to swerve the bul- 
let from its true course, and the sunlight, whether too bright 
or too dim has its effect. Shooting at a target where the 
distance is exactly known, and where the target itself is of 
such a color and so placed as to be distinctly seen, and where 
the rifle is equipped with peep sights, and wind gauge, is 
very different from shooting at game that is more or less 
indistinctly seen, and where the distance must be guessed 
at and where the wind and sun have to be reckoned with. 
Two hundred yards, therefore, is a long shot for the hunt- 
er, and two hundred and fifty yards a very long one, even 
with our present day long range guns. 

It makes a good deal of difference in hunting what 
kind of sights are used on the gun. If the front sight be- 
comes worn so that it is bright, while it may be all right in 
a cloudy day it will glimmer in the sunshine, and will be 
apt to cause bad shooting. And besides, metal sights of 
any kind cannot be clearly seen after dusk. The best sights 
for hunting that I have ever used are an ivory bead for the 
front sight, and a double rear sight consisting of two pieces 
of flat steel hung on a hinge so that one or both can be turned 



140 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

down. One of these pieces has a notch just Hke any ordi- 
nary rear sight — the other has fitted into it a little ivory 
triangle. In the day time the part with the triangle should 
be turned down, using only the sight with the notch. The 
ivory front sight shows clear and plain when seen through 
the notch, and never glimmers in the sunshine, nor looks 
dull and hard to see in a dark day. When dusk comes on, 
the sight with the notch should be turned down and the 
ivory triangle raised to its proper place. The sight is then 
perfectly caught when the bead in front appears to stand 
just at the top of the ivory triangle. Good shooting can be 
done with such sights when it is too dark to use the ordinary 
kind. A peep sight can also be added to these ivory sights, 
but when the peep sight is used the double rear sight should 
be turned down so as to be out of the way. The peep sight 
is not often needed but is convenient in making a long range 
shot. The peep sight should be graduated for any distance 
from a hundred yards up to half a mile. 

With sights such as have been described above, a man 
with eyesight quite defective can do pretty good shooting, 
when he would make an utter failure with ordinary sights. 
A hunter should be dressed in clothing that corresponds in 
color with the landscape over which he is to hunt. When 
game has been sighted at a distance the hat or cap should 
be trimmed with grass before making the approach. In 
the winter if there is snow deep enough to cover most of 
the grass, the cap should be covered with a white cloth, 
and the shoulders wrapped in a white sheet. In such a 
dress, when there was a foot or so of snow on the ground, 
I have crawled up to deer close enough for a fair shot with- 
out alarming them, and yet they were looking my way. It 
is probable that they could not tell what it was. Had the 
attempt been made to get near enough for a shot by walk- 
ing erect, or even in a stooping posture, it would have failed. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 141 

CHAPTER XIX. 
A Hunting Trip to Wyoming. 

There were only two of us — Charley and I, and we 
hardly knew where we were bound for. It had been several 
years since I had been away on a hunting trip, and what 
hunting had fallen to my lot in the past had mostly been 
done in the early days in Antelope county, or the adjacent 
counties of Wheeler and Holt, or sometimes even as far 
away as Garfield and Custer counties. At the time of which 
I am now writing, the elk and the antelope had entirely dis- 
appeared from my old hunting grounds in the counties 
named above, and deer were scarce, and what few were left 
in the sandhills of Garfield and other counties were wild 
and hard to find, and still harder to get a shot at when 
found. But the spell had come upon me, and for months 
I had been longing, and for weeks planning for the trip. 
It so happened that this fall I could get release for a few 
weeks from business, and it was too good a chance to lose. 
Much of the time for years I had been in the employ of the 
B. & M. Railroad company, as land examiner and appraiser, 
consequently being furnished with annual passes not only 
over their own road but over the C. & N. W. and it branches 
as well; it cost me nothing for transportation. I owned a 
new Winchester rifle, caliber 45-75, which had seen very 
little use. I said the rifle was new, and in fact it was, al- 
though it had been about eight years since it was bought, 
there having been little chance in all that time to use it, 
hence it looked almost as clean and new as when it first 
came from the factory. Conditions for the trip were all 
favorable, and the impulse was on me — it could not be re- 
sisted. 



142 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

Charley, my companion for the trip, was a drummer. 
This does not mean that he pounded the bass, or tap tapped 
the snare drum for the Oakdale band, but that he was a 
travehng salesman for an eastern wholesale hat and cap 
house. He had been off duty for several months, taking care 
of his father who was confined to the house with an incur- 
able disease. Being used to an active out of door life, the 
confinement necessary in caring for his father was wearing 
on him greatly. Hence he determined to take this trip with 
me, his father being even more anxious than Charley him- 
self that he should take a few weeks of needed relaxation. 

It was between three and four o'clock in the afternoon 
of a bright pleasant day in the latter part of November, 
1888, that we left Oakdale for some station in Wyoming, 
being undecided as yet as to what point we would leave the 
railroad. At that time that branch of the railroad running 
west from Chadron, was completed to Casper, Wyoming. 

Our plan of campaign was as follows : We would go 
by railroad to some point in Wyoming — possibly Van Tas- 
sell or Manville or Douglas, but probably Glenrock. At 
whatever place we left the railroad we intended to buy a 
pony and a pack saddle to carry the blankets, cooking uten- 
sils and provisions necessary for the trip. We would then 
strike out afoot in a northerly direction, leading the pony 
with the packs, and hunt and camp out as long as we wished, 
and finally when it was time to start for home we would 
turn to the east and strike the Black Hills branch of the 
railroad at Rapid City or Buffalo Gap, sell the pony for what 
he would bring, and come back home by rail. 

We did not expect to find game very plentiful, as it 
was thought that the deer had been greatly thinned out in 
the country which we proposed to traverse, but it was sup- 
posed that there were a few black tail deer left among the 
rough canyons of Hat Creek, and probably some bands of 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 143 

antelope on the open plains, and surely there would be sharp- 
tail grouse and rabbits, even if no larger game should be 
met with. 

Charley decided, against my advice and over my pro- 
tests, to take his double barrel shot gun instead of borrow- 
ing a rifle for the trip. He was an expect at hunting prairie 
chicken and ducks, but had never used a rifle, nor had he 
ever seen a wild deer. He believed that in the rough coun- 
try through which we were to go he could do better work 
with his shot gun and buck shot, should deer be found, 
than he could with a rifle. The result proved that he was 
mistaken. 

It was not the intention to take along a tent, or to be 
encumbered with any unnecessary luggage of any kind. We 
were going to have a good time roughing it. From home 
our luggage consisted of two compact bundles, containing 
our blankets, a coffee pot, an eight quart tin pail with cover, 
two frying pans, two tin cups, two knives and forks and 
spoons, a hatchet, a butcher knife, a tin pan, a wash basin, 
some tin plates, and also such articles as towels, soap, and 
changes of socks and underwear. These packages did not 
weigh more than sixty pounds each. Our provisions we 
would buy at whatever place we were to leave the railroad, 
and it was estimated that the entire outfit when ready to 
pack upon the pony would weigh considerably less than two 
hundred pounds. The guns and our belts filled with cart- 
ridges were carried in our hands or on our persons, as were 
also combs, tooth brushes and matches. Of course our packs 
contained also a necessary supply of spare ammunition as 
well as two or three packages of Charley's smoking tobacco. 
I carried also a very excellent pocket compass, a field glass 
and a large pocket knife. It should also be stated that we 
had with us needles, thread, buttons, safety pins, buckskin 
strings and perhaps some other small articles not now re- 
called to mind. It was found out after we were away from 



144 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

the railroad and well established in camp that nothing had 
been forgotten, and that everything actually necessary for 
such a trip had been provided. 

The railroad trip from Oakdale was uneventful. Chad- 
ron was reached about six o'clock the next morning, and 
here we had to change cars, the passenger train which 
brought us thus far going on north to the Black Hills. We 
had to wait at Chadron until after seven o'clock for the train 
going west into Wyoming. This was a freight train with 
one passenger coach attached, there being at that date no 
passenger train west of Chadron, on what is now known 
as the Lander route. Before leaving Chadron we had de- 
cided to go as far west as Glenrock. This conclusion was 
reached after having consulted with several persons who 
were acquainted with that country ; their advice being that 
Glenrock was the best point west of Chadron to purchase 
such things as would be needed for our trip. The engine 
that drew our train was old and out of repair and it took all 
day and into the night to reach Glenrock. At one time 
where there was an up grade I got out and walked for half 
a mile by the side of the train, and this feat could have been 
repeated a number of times. From Chadron west the road 
has an up grade most of the way to Keeline, which is on 
the summit at the head of the Niobrara river, and which 
has an elevation of about 5000 feet. From Keeline west it 
is mostly a down grade to Douglas, where the valley of the 
North Platte is reached, and from Douglas west to Glen- 
rock it is up hill again. At Douglas the first view was had 
of the mountains, Laramie Peak being in plain sight about 
forty miles to the south. Laramie Peak is quite a famous 
mountain, it being the highest point of what are now known 
as the Laramie mountains, and it is said to have an eleva- 
tion of 10,000 feet. It looked to me like an old friend, and 
I hailed it as such. In the year 1852, in the month of July, 
I had driven a team of four yoke of cattle wearily along the 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 145 

old Oregon Trail, going right through the place where 
Douglas now stands, the grand old Laramie mountain being 
in plain sight for several days, a broad patch of snow partly 
covering its northern slope. On this hunting trip, it was at 
Douglas that we first struck the old Oregon Trail, and Lar- 
amie Peak was the first familiar object that was recognized. 

The Black Hills and the Laramie mountains are out- 
lying ranges of the Rocky mountains, and are separated 
therefrom by a high country of broken hills, steep gulches, 
narrow valleys and level or undulating plains, some of them 
of considerable size, but much of it sterile and more or less 
thickly strewn with rocks. What we now call the Black 
Hills lying partly in South Dakota and partly in Wyoming, 
north of the North Platte river, and what we call the Lara 
mie mountains, lying south of the North Platte, were until 
quite recently all called Black Hills. The two ranges in 
fact do form one continuous range, the North Platte river 
having ages ago forced its way through a low place in the 
range, thereby forming what is known as the North Platte 
canyon. 

Arriving at Glenrock about ten o'clock at night, it was 
decided not to go up town to spend the balance of the night, 
but instead to find some place to camp until the morning. 
There was no moon, but the night was starlit and not very 
dark. Having already eaten luncheon on the train, we 
shouldered our packs and taking our guns in hand picked 
our way through the darkness down along the bank of Deer 
Creek until a level grassy place was found among the trees 
that lined the banks of the stream. The bed was soon made, 
and here we spent our first night in camp. The night was 
clear and cold, but we had plenty of covers and as we re- 
moved only our coats and boots before getting into bed we 
were warm and comfortable throughout the night. 

The next morning was clear and very frosty, and as 
soon as it was fairly daylight, leaving everything in camp 



146 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

but our guns, we went up town, which was less than a quar- 
ter of a mile away, to look around, make inquiries, and hunt 
for a hot breakfast. There was one hotel in the town and 
one restaurant. Going to the restaurant for breakfast, it 
was found to be a large, well equipped place, and the break- 
fast was already well under way. Having washed, I was 
standing in front of the glass combing my hair when some- 
one called out: 'TIello Leach, what are you doing here?" 
Looking around I saw Ed Baker, formerly a grocer and 
grain dealer at Columbus, Neb. I had not seen him since 
the railroad had come to Antelope county, but in the seven- 
ties had sold him many a load of wheat, and had bought of 
him many times a supply of groceries. He was now one 
of the leading business men of Glenrock, being secretary 
of the Deer Creek Coal company. After breakfast Charley 
soon run on to an old acquaintance of his by the name of 
Abbott whom he had known at Albion, Neb., Mr. Abbott 
having been at one time postmaster at that place. 

Glenrock was a little village of 400 or 500 people. It 
had sprung into existence only a few years previously, and 
was the result of the discovery of the Deer Creek coal mines. 
The town was made up of a few business men and their 
famiHes and the coal miners and their families, the miners 
greatly outnumbering all the others. It was a rough look- 
ing and a rough acting place, like all such western towns, 
but like all such places the people of all classes were friendly, 
sociable and kindly disposed. Nowhere else will the strang- 
er, if he behaves himself properly, be received with more 
hearty good will than on our western frontier, whether it be 
in the new built town or among the settlers or cattle ranch- 
ers on the prairies. 

Having told our plans to Messrs. Baker and Abbott, 
they decided at once that they ought to be modified. There 
was no use they said of buying a pony — Mr. Abbott would 
loan one to us, and Mr. Baker would lend us a pack saddle. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 147 

There was game in the vicinity of Glenrock, so Mr. Baker 
knew, because the hunters were bringing in deer and ante- 
lope for sale every few days. Mr. Abbott had been out into 
the surrounding country considerably and had hunted some 
himself . He told us that among the rough hills at the head 
of Sand creek, about twenty miles north of Glenrock, there 
were blacktail deer, and although he thought they were not 
very plentiful, we had better try our luck in that direction — 
that antelope would be found in great numbers in the smooth 
country before reaching the hills. We thought their advice 
good, and at once began to act upon it. 

The restaurant furnished us with what bread could be 
spared and baked up a lot of biscuit, which are better for 
a camping trip than loaf bread. At one of the stores we 
bought bacon, sugar, salt, pepper, tea and coffee, and at 
Charley's suggestion two or three cans of condensed milk. 
By noon everything was in readiness, and after dinner a 
dray was engaged to carry our truck across the North Platte 
river, the pony being tied behind. It was thought best not 
to load the things on the pony's back until the north bank 
was reached, lest he might take a notion to lie down in mid- 
stream. Arriving at the north bank of the stream the dray- 
man was paid for his services and he returned to Glenrock. 
The packs were soon arranged on the pony's back, and all 
covered with a tarpauHn, which Mr. Baker insisted on lend- 
ing to us. The tarpaulin was to be spread upon the ground 
at night and the bed to be made upon one half and the other 
half turned back over the bed and tucked under at the sides, 
thus keeping out the winds should they happen to blow, 
which was generally the case. 

The North Platte river in this part of Wyoming is about 
two hundred steps wide, with generally a rocky bottom, arid 
from one to two feet deep where we crossed it, the current 
being rapid, though probably not more so than it is gener- 
ally throughout its Nebraska course. We were now on the 



148 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

north side of the river, at the mouth of Sand Creek, and 
ready to start out on our trip up the creek valley to the high 
hills that could be dimly seen to the north, and said to be 
twenty miles away. Sand Creek is about thirty feet wide, 
with a sandy bed, low banks, and very shallow water, and 
at the time we were there entirely dry in places, the water 
standing often only in occasional pools. It has a valley 
from one to two miles wide and undulating tracts of land 
on either side of its valley, the whole rising gradually as one 
goes north, and becoming rough, broken, high and rocky 
as the head of the valley is approached. We were now fair- 
ly on our way — everything had gone well so far — could not 
have been better or more to our liking. 

Within a mile of the river we flushed a covey of sage 
hens, and Charley brought down one with each barrel of 
his gun as they rose to fly. The sage hen is a species 
of plains grouse about twice as large as the sharp tail grouse. 
A flock of them reminds one strongly of a flock of half 
grown wild turkeys. Our supper was now provided for as 
it seemed, but I had strong doubts about it, as I had become 
acquainted with the merits of the sage hen many years be- 
fore. However, we cooked them for supper, but made our 
meal principally on biscuit, fried bacon and tea, the sage 
hens having too strong a flavor of their natural food, the 
leaves and buds of the artemisia or wild sage. It is said 
that the young ones in August and September, when their 
food is chiefly grasshoppers and crickets, are excellent eat- 
ing. It has never been my lot to taste one at that time of 
year. 

About four o'clock, as the November days are short, 
finding a nice, grassy, sheltered place, we went into camp, 
gathered a big pile of dry sage brush for fuel, cooked and 
ate supper, staked out the pony where the grass was good, 
made down our bed, put on our coats and over these a blan- 
ket, for the evening was cool and a moderate north wind 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 149 

was blowing; then Charley lighted his pipe, and while he 
smoked we talked and told stories, and laid plans, and look- 
ed at the stars and picked out all that we could call by name 
every now and then replenishing the fire, until as "slumber 
began to press the eyelids" we turned in and slept soundly 
until the morning. 



150 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

CHAPTER XX. 
A Hunting Trip to Wyoming — Continued. 

We were up the next morning as soon as daylight be- 
gan to streak the eastern sky, and while one of us changed 
the pony to a place where the pasturage was fresh, the other 
kindled the fire, put over the coffee pot, and began to make 
ready for breakfast. It does not take long to get breakfast 
when the bread is already on hand, and only coffee has to 
be boiled and the bacon fried. We did not use what re- 
mained of the sage hens, for what we had for supper was 
enough for the whole trip. But the breakfast was good 
and was thoroughly enjoyed. The best staple provisions for 
the camp are bread, bacon and coffee, and whoever cannot 
enjoy such a diet, had better not try camping out, except- 
ing in his own dooryard. Our appetites were good, our 
spirits buoyant and elastic, our hopes high; everything so 
far having worked to our advantage, and whether the hunt 
for game was successful or not, we believed, if the weather 
held good, that our outing would be a grand success. We 
did not really expect to get much game, and in fact did not 
care to, but we hoped to get a deer or two just to have a 
taste of venison, and to add variety and zest to what was 
already becoming an interesting trip. 

That forenoon the only mishap occurred that happened 
during the whole trip. Something went wrong, we did not 
know what, and the pony began to buck, and he kept it up 
in the most strenuous manner, until a part of the pack was 
scattered around on the ground and the balance, with the 
saddle, was under his belly. All at once he quit as sudden- 
ly as he begun, and standing very quiet, allowed us to re- 
arrange and repack the luggage, which we did this time 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 151 

with renewed care, as we thought his recent freak was 
occasioned from some ill adjustment of the load. 

We saw no signs of deer, but about noon a few ante- 
lope were seen at a distance but not in position to approach. 
Toward the middle of the afternoon some antelope were 
seen feeding about half a mile away. We were in the creek 
valley, partly screened from view by clumps of sage brush 
— the antelope being on the undulating table land to the 
west, and apparently not yet having seen us. I went after 
them, Charley, in the meantime, hiding with the pony, be- 
hind a dense bunch of sage brush. The approach was easy 
by taking advantage of some low knolls and frequent patches 
of sage brush, and at certain places by lying flat and crawl- 
ing through the grass. Getting within easy range I got one 
at a standing shot, and put in a second shot as they ran off. 
The first one fell after a jump or two, but the second one 
following the herd a short distance, turned oflf by itself 
and was lost. I spent some time looking for it, but had to 
give it up, and returning to the first one, cut out the hind 
quarters, and throwing them on my shoulder started back, 
leaving the fore quarters to the wolves. A day or two later 
I found the carcass of the second antelope. It had not been 
found by the wolves, but the meat was spoiled, the weather 
through the middle of the day having become warm. Even 
in real cold weather the meat will become more or less 
tainted unless the intestines and stomach are removed. 

So much time had been wasted in hunting for the 
wounded antelope that it seemed doubtful whether or not 
the hills toward which we had been traveling all day could 
be reached before dark. They were now in plain sight not 
over three miles away, one of which being higher and more 
prominent than the others, having on its extreme summit 
a single ''lonesome pine." Others hills in the vicinity of 
this one were partly covered with a growth of scrubby pine 
trees and altogether it looked very inviting as a camping 



152 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

ground. But it was too late to get there, and as darkness 
began to come on we turned aside and made camp in a 
ravine. It was not a pleasant camp, in fact it was the worst 
one of the whole trip, the ground being uneven and too 
sloping for a good place to spread the bed, and the sage- 
brush, our only fuel, although plentiful was not of thrifty 
growth. However, the night was fine and we had antelope 
steak for supper, and so far the trip had been a success, 
exceeding our anticipations. Charley's pipe was filled and 
refilled and filled again, and we sat and talked and laid plans 
for the next day. Charley's tobacco was of good quality, 
and I took care to sit where I could catch a whiff of its 
fragrant fumes now and then, and thought I was enjoying 
it as much as Charley himself. When camping out it is 
always a pleasure to have a good smoker in camp, provided, 
of course, that he uses good tobacco. It was arranged that 
the next morning I should go in the direction of the "lone- 
some pine," which now was not more than a mile and a 
half away, and look out a good place for a permanent camp, 
while Charley with his shot gun, provided with buckshot 
cartridges, would hunt in the vicinity of the camp for any 
kind of game that might be found. 

I found a good camping place right at the foot of the 
cliff of the lone pine — it was protected on all sides except- 
ing the east by steep rocky banks, the place for the bed 
being grassy and level, with plenty of dry pine wood and 
sage brush convenient for fuel. There was no water any- 
where near, the last pool in Sand Creek being as many as 
three miles down the creek to the south. But we did not 
need the water, as snow could be melted in the coffee pot 
and tin pail for all needed purposes. Some time before our 
arrival there had been a snow storm — the snow had drifted 
considerably, but was now all melted except the drifts which 
were frequent, and in places from two to three feet deep. 
We had melted snow in the tin p^jj for the pony, but he 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 153 

did not care for it, but like range ponies in general preferred 
to quench his thirst by eating snow from the drifts rather 
than by drinking snow water melted over a fire. 

Before noon the camp had been moved and we were 
established in new and permanent quarters. After dinner 
I started northwest into the rough hills with the rifle. The 
hills were not very high, but were exceedingly rough and 
rocky, and were timbered with a scanty growth of scrubby 
pine trees, with numerous ravines and pockets filled with a 
thick growth of red cedar. There were also many patches 
of ground juniper, a species of cedar that does not grow 
to be more than a foot or two high but that spreads over 
the surface of the ground, forming a thick mat. There 
were fresh tracks of deer, and plenty of game signs. With- 
out question we had found the right place. 

I have neglected to state that when we stopped for 
dinner the day before, I targeted my rifle, not so much to 
test the rifle, but to test my eyes. I had hunted very little 
tor eight years, and was not sure that my eyesight was keen 
enough to do good shooting. Charley put up a snow ball 
about seventy-five yards away, and taking a rest so as to 
be sure of my aim, I fired and broke the snow ball. Char- 
ley said that might have been an accidental hit, and so he 
put up a second snow ball, which was broken with a second 
shot. I now felt sure of myself, and wanted only to find 
the game. 

Up to this time the weather had been fine ever since 
leaving home — the days were invariably sunshiny and 
bright, warm in the middle of the day, and the nights frosty 
and cold. Today, however, it began to cloud over in the 
forenoon, and I had not gotten a mile from camp when it 
began to snow hard, with a strong wind blowing from the 
northwest. I waited in a sheltered place, and in a short 
time it stopped snowing, but the wind continued to blow. 



154 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

Soon another snow squall came on, harder than the first, 
and fearing a blizzard, made my way hurriedly back to 
camp. The weather continued to be squally during the 
afternoon but it snowed very little and cleared up in the 
evening. 

Next morning we started out early, each going his own 
way, as we both chose to hunt separately. The best time 
to hunt black tail deer is early in the morning and late in 
the afternoon, because they are then up and feeding, ex- 
cepting in a dark, dreary kind of a day, when they are apt 
to be abroad at any time. We were in a black tail country 
and I knew it, because they like a rough country, and this 
was rough, and because I had seen plenty of signs of their 
presence the previous day. I went directly into the hills 
to the northwest. The hills were very rough, rocky and 
steep and some of them moderately high, timbered in places 
with a growth of scrubby pine trees and occasional thickets 
of little young pines, with narrow draws and pockets in the 
hillsides filled with a thick growth of red cedar. Going up 
hill and down hill for about a mile, I crossed a narrow val- 
ley, then up the side of a low very steep ridge. This ridge 
was very narrow, covered with rocks of all sizes from that 
of a pebble to that of a good sized chicken house, and 
timbered with pine and cedar thickets. Just as the top of 
the ridge was reached I caught sight of a black tail doe. 
She was running along the ridge to the southwest and was 
out of sight before there was any chance to shoot. About 
a quarter of a mile off in the direction the doe was running, 
the ridge widened, and joined the main hill, which was at 
that place quite thickly covered vv^ith pine trees, some of 
them quite large, but without under growth, so that a deer 
might be seen almost anywhere in the timber. Following 
on carefully, I had gone about half way to the hill, when 
I stopped to look and listen, shielded from sight by a big 
rock that was as high as my shoulders. There was nothing 




Black Tail Deer 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 155 

in sight — the old doe had doubtless gone on over the hill. 
T was just ready to follow when there was a sHght noise 
on a side hill some distance to my right. In a moment I 
saw two black tail bucks traveling slowly along the side hill, 
one behind the other. They v/ere across a deep ravine, and 
about forty rods away. I might have taken a shot, but 
wanted a better chance. They kept on, going slowly, circling 
gradually to the left, and keeping about the same distance 
from my position until they came to the timbered hill in 
front, when they turned and came almost directly towards 
me. Only my head and arms were in sight and as I kept 
perfectly still they did not notice me at all. They kept com- 
ing on, until when within about seventy-five steps I fired 
at the one behind. He gave two or three big jumps and 
fell. The other instead of running off gave a bound or two 
and turned to look at the fallen deer. I fired, but too hastily 
and the ball struck too far back. He turned, and runnmg 
directly toward me, was brought down by a second shot 
when not more than twenty steps away. I dressed them 
both, cut off the hind quarters, and inserting a gambrel in 
each hung the quarters up in a pine tree out of reach of the 
wolves. Then cutting out of each of the fore quarters the 
thick meat along the backbone just back of the shoulders 
and securing it with a buckskin string so that it could be 
slung over the gun to be carried to camp, was ready to go 
as soon as my hands had been washed in a near by snow 
bank. 

It was not quite noon, but luncheon was eaten before 
starting out again. I did not care either to hunt for game 
any more that day, or to go back and spend the whole after- 
noon in camp, and therefore concluded to do a little explor- 
ing. There was a deep ravine on either side of the ridge 
where the deer were killed — these two ravines coming to- 
gether less than half a mile to the north formed a little val- 
ley in which about a mile away were several cottonwood 



156 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

trees of good size. This indicated water — I would go and 
see. There was no water — only the bed of a dried up pool. 
While exploring around among the cottonwood trees I ■ saw 
two or three deer about half a mile further down the valley, 
and looking through the field glass distinctly saw ten or 
twelve, nearly all lying down, one of them being a large 
buck with big horns. I wanted those horns. Before going 
on the trip I had promised to my friends two deers' heads, 
provided they could be had, which was not very probable. 
The approach was not difficult, the bottom of the ravine 
affording good cover. When within a dozen rods of the 
deer an old doe stepped out in plain sight; it was an easy 
mark, but she was not wanted. Luckily I was lying flat 
on the ground and was not seen. Presently she stepped 
back out of sight, and I continued to crawl along until a 
big rock about four feet high was reached. I knew the 
deer were very close, and that I would be seen as soon as I 
stood up. Such a time, as everyone knows who has hunted 
big game, is a very interesting moment. It was worth the 
whole trip just to have one such chance as this, and such 
a chance does not often come, even to those who make hunt- 
ing a business. I had debated in my mind while hidden in 
the bed of the dry creek whether to remain there until the 
deer got up to feed, or to try to crawl to the rock. I de- 
cided to go to the rock, and now I knew that as soon as 
the deer discovered me they would be off in an instant and 
probably a running shot would have to be taken with the 
risk of missing. Making ready to fire, the rifle at my 
shoulder and finger on the trigger, I slowly raised my head. 
The old buck was the first deer seen, not more than twenty 
steps away, only his head and neck visible, and looking my 
way. He never moved, probably not just knowing what it 
was. I made a quick shot at his head and he dropped, the 
others running off and before I hardly knew what I was 
doing I fired again, bringing down another deer. They ran 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 157 

only a short distance when they stopped, turned about and 
looked at me. I took aim at another but put down the rifle 
without firing — I had enough for the first day's hunting. 
The buck had a fine set of horns, and I afterward had the 
head mounted by Sessions & Bell of Norfolk. It is now 
owned by my oldest daughter. Some years ago it took the 
premium at the state fair as the finest speciment of the kind 
on exhibition. This had been my lucky day, only twice in 
all my hunting experiences have I had better luck than on 
this day. Once I killed three elk in a day and once two elk 
and four deer. This day I had killed four deer at five shots. 
Often I would only get one, if any at five shots. 

It took a good part of the next day to get the game 
into camp and we did no hunting. We then moved camp 
about a quarter of a mile to a place thought to be more con- 
venient; this, however, not taking up a great deal of time. 
We then hunted two or three days more with indifferent 
success. I got in several shots, getting only two deer and 
doing some very poor shooting. One is apt to get careless 
in hunting, and even if one tries to be careful, some poor 
shooting is apt to be done. I got one very fine standing 
shot at a large doe not more than a hundred yards off, and 
never touched her. This surprised me so that I did not 
throw in another cartridge until she was out of reach. At 
another time I shot at a large buck that was running past 
within easy range — it ought to have been a dead shot, but 
the ball struck too far back, and so high up that he could 
not be followed by the blood. Charley could not coax the 
deer up close enough to reach them with his shot gun, and 
he did not have good luck in approaching them, so that in 
all this time he did not get a shot. However, we had six 
deer on hand, besides what was left of the antelope — we were 
about out of bread, and some arrangement must be made 
to get our game to town. What we did do, and how we 
did it, will be told in the next chapter. 



158 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

CHAPTER XXI. 
A Hunting Trip to Wyoming — Concluded. 

During the evening, while Charley smoked, we talked 
inatters over and concluded what to do. It was decided 
that next day I should go to town with the pony, get a 
supply of biscuit and what else might be needed and make 
arrangements to have a man and team come out to our camp 
in about a week to haul in the game. It was expected that 
I could get back to camp about the middle of the afternoon 
the second day, Charley in the meantime keeping camp and 
hunting with the shot gun. I offered to take his gun with 
me and leave the rifle, but he would not do it. 

The next morning I got an early start, riding the pony 
part of the time, and part of the time leading him, as the 
pack saddle was uncomfortable as a riding saddle, to say 
the least. About ten o'clock when half way to the river I 
came across a wagon and a tent pitched by the side of it. 
There was no one around but soon a man came carrying 
a 22 calibre rifle with which he had been hunting rabbits. 
He said that there were three men in the party — that the 
horses had strayed and the other two men were hunting 
them — that they hailed from Cheyenne, were out hunting — 
had been out three weeks and had killed one deer. On hear- 
ing my story, he offered to loan me a riding horse and 
saddle if I would wait until the men came in with the horses. 
His offer was gladly accepted, and the coffee was put over 
to boil, and by the time the horses came dinner was ready. 

Dinner over I was furnished with a riding horse and 
saddle, and mounting was soon on the way to Glenrock, 
leading the pack pony. That afternoon and evening I got 
the landlady at the hotel to bake a good supply of biscuit, 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 159 

made the necessary purchases, and started for camp early 
in the morning. Before noon I was back at the camp of 
our new found friends from Cheyenne, but found it de- 
serted. The day before I had told them of a pool of water 
about three miles below our camp, that was in easy reach 
of our blacktail hunting ground, and advised them to move 
camp to that place. This had been done, and on reaching 
the pool I found them already there and the camp nearly 
made. Leaving the riding horse with many sincere thanks 
for his use I went on toward our own camp, leading the 
pack pony. That evening Charley and I visited their camp, 
remaining until late in the evening. I neglected to state that 
I did not engage a team to come in a week for our game, 
because our new found friends had volunteered to haul the 
game for us. 

While we were at their camp that evening I happened 
to mention that while in Glenrock I had talked with some 
men who had been prospecting for oil on the head waters 
of some of the branches of "Powder river, about fifty miles 
northwest of Glenrock, who reported having seen only a 
week before a large band of elk, and that blacktail deer were 
also very abundant in that country. This report set our 
Cheyenne friends wild. They would pull out the next day, 
go back to Glenrock, get supplies and strike for the Powder 
river country; and they wanted us to go with them. They 
offered to carry our luggage, and haul our game, if we 
would go, provided we would pay half the expense for horse 
feed and give them half the game we should kill. The plan 
suited us. 

Next morning we pulled out for Glenrock, got the sup- 
plies needed and by noon of the following day were ready 
to start out for our new hunting grounds. Charley and I 
added to our stock of provisions a supply of flour and bak- 
ing powder for use in case the biscuit gave out. The owner 
of the horses offered to let me have the use of the horse 



160 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

he had loaned to me without charge if I would have him 
shod all around. I was only too glad to accept the offer. 
He was a good riding horse, trusty and gentle, not afraid 
of a gun, and he did excellent service. 

While in Glenrock I became acquainted with the county 
surveyor. He had taken oil claims in the very country to 
which we were going, and he gave me instructions how to 
reach the place by the best route, there being no track most 
of the way. I will not repeat his directions in full, only we 
were to run by the compass most of the way after crossing 
the North Platte, until we reached Sand springs where we 
would strike the road from Casper to Buffalo, then this 
road was to be followed until we arrived at a desirable hunt- 
ing ground. Following his directions we got through easily 
after about two days' travel. 

One very interesting thing occurred on this trip — at 
least interesting to me. Soon after crossing the North Platte 
we came upon the old Oregon Trail that follows up, along 
that side of the river. For a mile or two we traveled in, 
or by the side of the old trail and it looked and seemed so 
natural that I was carried back to the summer of 1852 and 
was again in mind, on the overland journey, only then I was 
driving four yoke of cattle — now I was on horseback. At 
one place we crossed three or four steep ravines, where I 
distinctly remembered that the crossing was so bad that it 
took both my cousin and myself to manage the team, one 
of us at the heads of the lead cattle, and the other to mind 
the wheel oxen and manage the brake. 

We made a good camp on Salt creek, a tributary to 
Powder river. The camp was protected from the wind on 
all sides either by steep banks or by thickets of willows. 
The water in the little creek was good for drinking, it being 
the only good water we found in that neighborhood, all the 
other streams being saline or alkaline water or both. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 161 

We now had five men in camp; the newcomers being 
known as The Old Man, George and Charley. The Old 
Man owned the outfit of wagon, tent and teams. I have for- 
gotten his name if indeed I ever heard it. He was a rail- 
road builder and having worked all summer on a grading 
contract was now on a hunting trip for fun, and to get a 
supply of meat for winter. He tended the camp, and hunt- 
ed rabbits with a 22 rifle, but never killed anything. George 
and Charley were mechanics — were both single men, and 
were out for sport. They both carried new, magazine Win- 
chester rifles, calibre 40-82. Charley was German, his real 
name being Carl, and hereafter will be known as Carl in this 
narrative to prevent confusion of names. Neither George 
nor Carl knew anything about hunting, but Carl was a 
splendid shot with a rifle. At a distance of twenty paces 
he would hit a half gallon tin can at nearly every shot when 
thrown into the air. He did not understand the habits of 
game, nor know where to find it when hunting, but he was 
quite successful as a hunter from the fact that he was an 
expert marksman. They were not the most agreeable peo- 
ple to camp out with, their conversation being on the low 
order, and their stories and jokes rough to say the least. 
However, they were friendly and willing to accommodate 
and we got along first rate. 

The country over which we were to hunt was much the 
same as that already described around our camps at the head 
of Sand creek, only here, about two miles east of the camp 
was a high, broken ridge — a divide between two water 
courses, that assumed the proportions of a mountain range, 
and contained a good deal of pine and cedar timber, some 
of the pine trees being of quite large size. From any point 
on the summit of this ridge, where the view was not ob- 
structed by timber, the Big Horn mountains could plainly 
be seen to the northwest, and the valley of Salt Fork on 
which we were camped could be traced to its junction with 



162 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

the main Powder river valley, as well as a portion of the 
main valley itself. In the same direction there were a num- 
ber of high buttes containing layers of colored rocks, their 
sides being streaked with alternate layers of pink, yellow 
and green. 

I did a good deal of exploring as well as of hunting, 
and derived at least as much pleasure from this source as 
from hunting for game. There were many things of in- 
terest. Near our camp at the head of Sand creek there were 
many veins of coal to be seen along the sides of the dry 
water courses, varying in thickness from a few inches to 
five feet. There was one hill of iron ore — a piece chipped 
from the rock would attract the needle of the compass the 
same as a magnet. There were many birds, especially in the 
vicinity of our Salt creek camp, the most conspicuous of 
which were magpies, whisky jacks or Canada jays, and 
flocks of the beautiful wax wings or cedar birds. The mag- 
pies and whisky jacks were annoying; they would pick at 
the venison when left out for a time before bringing it to 
camp, mutilating the hams and devouring all they could eat. 
The whisky jacks were about the camp at all times during 
the day, becoming very tame and picking up any scraps 
thrown out from the table. One time some years after this 
trip, while hunting in the Black Hills, someone in camp had 
a bottle of whisky, carried probably for snake bites, although 
it was November and we were camped high up in the moun- 
tains above the range of rattlesnakes. Guy Campbell who 
was along soaked some bread in whisky and placing it in 
reach of the whisky jacks awaited the result. They de- 
voured the bread eagerly, and two of them getting an over- 
dose were able to fly with difficulty, and could scarcely sit 
upon a limb, one of them actually turning a sommersault 
and hanging for a time head downward. 

There were range cattle scattered about in little bands 
all over the country, and in the vicinity of our Salt creek 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 163 

camp there was a drove of mares and colts, a hundred or 
more in number led by an old mare with a bell. The cattle 
were almost as wild as the deer, and would run off on the 
approach of anyone on foot. There were cattle trails lead- 
ing to the watering places the same as the buffalo trails of 
the early days, only they were not so deeply worn. No 
human habitations were met with anywhere, there being 
no settlers, and the cattle ranches were few and widely scat- 
tered. 

The next morning after the camp had been made on 
Salt creek, we all started out for a hunt except the Old Man, 
who kept the camp. I hunted faithfully and carefully all 
day, and was the last one in at night, not reaching camp 
until it was dusk. I saw nothing bigger than a magpie, al- 
though there were plenty of game signs ; all the others had 
seen deer and Carl had killed two, one big one and one small 
one. Charley was a good cook and supper was ready, con- 
sisting of pancakes, broiled venison and tea, and a little 
fried bacon to furnish gravy for the pancakes. The supper 
was fine and the evening was pleasantly spent, everybody 
seeming elated over the prospects except myself. I felt that 
my reputation was at stake, and was thinking over plans to 
redeem it the next day. 

The next morning I was up and had cooked and eaten 
breakfast before daylight while the others were asleep. Just 
as the light began to appear in the east and as the others 
were beginning to get out, I started out for the day's hunt, 
and was a mile away from camp before it was light enough 
to see to shoot. Soon there began to be fresh signs of elk, 
and going very slowly and carefully, for the elk has a keen 
nose and is sharp of sight, I found a herd of about forty 
when not more than two miles from camp. They were 
mostly lying down, and in a place where it was not very 
difficult to approach them, although for some distance I had 
to crawl upon my stomach, and at other places go in a stoop- 



164 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

ing posture or on my hands and knees. From my position 
when ready to shoot only three or four could be seen, and 
from these I picked out the largest cow elk and fired, the 
bullet striking fair and making a "thud" that could be 
plainly heard. The herd started to run, and soon bunched 
as they will nearly always do, when I got in a second shot 
and hit another cow elk. By this time they were filing off 
at a lope, and selecting a big buck I fired at and wounded 
him, but not so but he could keep up with the herd. The 
first elk ran into a cedar thicket and lay down. Going up 
within thirty steps I gave her a shot in the head. The two 
had fallen not more than two hundred steps apart and be- 
fore noon I had them both dressed, and some snow thrown 
into the cavity of the body to cool them off quickly, the day 
being so warm that blow flies were beginning to come 
around. 

It was about a mile further to the top of a high ridge 
where I stopped and ate luncheon, watching in the meantime 
for game, being screened from sight by some clumps of 
brush. While eating I saw five deer about half a mile off 
— a big buck by himself and a buck, doe and two fawns in 
another place. After luncheon I went for the buck first, 
and getting within long range gave him a shot, but it was 
not immediately fatal. He was shot through the body, but 
bled very little on the outside. I followed him for about a 
mile, but the tracking was so slow, I gave it up and went 
back to try and find the other four deer. They had moved 
about a half mile, but were easily found, and I got them all, 
it taking one shot for the old doe, one for one of the fawns 
and two each for the buck and the other fawn. It was dark 
when I got into camp, but it was the greatest day's hunt I 
had ever had. I had killed two elk and four deer and had 
used eleven cartridges. Carl had come across the same herd 
of elk later in the day, and had brought down one of the 
bucks. These were the first elk he had ever seen and 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 165 

he felt greatly elated as well he might. Carl and George on 
going with pack horses for the two deer that Carl had killed 
the day before could only find the large deer. The two had 
fallen about a quarter of a mile apart, and some animal, pro- 
bably a grizzly, had found and carried off the small deer. 

In a few days, having a full load of game we went back 
to Glenrock. During the hunt, I had killed in all twelve 
deer, two elk and three antelope, not counting any that were 
wounded and lost. I have never made a more successful 
hunt, either before or since that time. At Glenrock, we ar- 
ranged with Mr. Baker to ship our game to Oakdale with 
the first load of coal billed for that place. While waiting at 
Glenrock for the car that was to carry the game, Charley 
borrowed a rifle, and going into the country south of Glen- 
rock, he killed two antelope at one shot. He probably has 
not to this day ceased to regret that he did not take a rifle 
for the trip. 

We left a liberal supply of venison with our friends at 
Glenrock, and bidding good bye, started for home on the 
next train that carried passengers, after having shipped the 
game. The game came through safely to Mr. Truesdale, 
who was then the coal dealer at Oakdale. Charley and I 
divided with our neighbors, sending a mess of venison to 
forty-two families in Oakdale and vicinity. Our friend, Ed. 
Baker at Glenrock, did not care for any venison himself, as 
he was boarding at the restaurant, but at his request, I sent 
by express the hind quarters of a deer to his relatives in 
Ohio, and later received from his niece a letter of acknowl- 
edgement. We were gone from home about four weeks. 



166 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

CHAPTER XXII. 
The Black Hills. 

What we now call the Black Hills consists of an extens- 
ive tract of mountainous country lying chiefly in western 
South Dakota, but extending also from twenty to thirty miles 
into eastern Wyoming. This tract is enclosed, excepting on 
the west, by the north and south forks of Cheyenne river, 
the north fork being known also as the Belle Fourche river. 
It is a broad tract, covering four entire counties in South 
Dakota, namely, Lawrence, Meade, Pennington and Custer, 
and also a portion of the northern part of Fall River county, 
besides a tract of considerable size in Wyoming. They ex- 
tend a hundred miles from southeast to northwest, and in the 
broadest part are eighty miles wide. A hundred years ago, 
what we now call the Black Hills was an unknown region — 
what was then called Black Hills, or sometimes Black Moun- 
tains, lies in central Wyoming, south of the North Platte 
river, and is now known as the Laramie Mountains. The 
Black Hills of South Dakota almost touch our own state of 
Nebraska; in fact our own mountainous country in western 
and northwestern Nebraska, known as Pine Ridge and the 
Wild Cat Range, is but a continuation on a smaller scale of 
the real Black Hills country of South Dakota. 

The Black Hills were so named, so we are told in the 
old books describing the early explorations in the western 
country, on account of their dark color, owing to the forest 
growth of evergreen timber covering their sides ; this timber, 
consisting of pine, spruce and cedar. This name is appro- 
priate because it is descriptive in so far as it applies to color, 
but why they were called hills instead of mountains is not so 
clear. In some of the old books, and especially Irving's 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 167 

Bonneville, the word hills seldom, if ever, occurs in this con- 
nection — they are spoken of as the Black Mountains. They 
are really a superb aggregation of mountain ridges and 
peaks, rivaling in height the White Mountains of New 
Hampshire and the Alleghanies of western North Carolina, 
and greatly exceeding in height the entire Appalachian chain 
as a whole. The highest points are over 7000 feet in height, 
and a great number of peaks and ridges are more than 6000 
feet high. However, the name Black Hills has caught, and 
will hold fast, and, while not exactly appropriate, it has be- 
come endeared in the memories of thousands of those who 
live within or near this mountainous region, and of those 
who have visited it for the purpose of hunting, fishing and 
camping. There are scores upon scores of prominent peaks, 
some of the most noted being Harney's peak, Buckhorn 
mountain, Terry's peak, Custer's peak. Bear Lodge, Inyan 
Kara, Bear Butte, Warren's peak. Round Top, and very 
many others. 

On the southwestern side there is a detached unbroken 
ridge sixty miles long, and separated from the main moun- 
tain chain by a series of narrow flats and valleys, and run- 
ning from Edgemont in South Dakota almost to Newcastle, 
Wyoming, that has been named Elk Mountain. It is cover- 
ed with timber from bottom to top, the mountain, in some 
places, running up to a narrow, sharp ridge, and in other 
places widening out at the top to level or undulating tracts 
half a mile or more in width. In places the ascent is, at 
least part of the way, quite easy and gradual, in others steep 
and difficult to climb. On this mountain a good deal of 
lumbering has been done in the past, and most of the large 
timber has been cut off. 

Another prominent ridge is called the Limestone. The 
Limestone runs from northwest to southeast through a large 
portion of the mountainous tract, and is the backbone of the 



168 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

system, its greatest height being 7100 feet, which, however, 
is not quite as high, so I have been informed, as some of the 
outlying peaks. From both sides of the Limestone slopes, 
there are hundreds of springs of cold pure water that 
break out from among the rocks, and start on their journey 
in the form of little rivulets to join the larger streams at the 
foot of the mountain. Some of these springs, however, and 
indeed a good many of them, flow only a short distance, a 
half mile or so, and sink into the ground, probably to again 
break out lower down the mountain slope. 

This whole mass of mountains, a hundred or more miles 
long, and from forty to eighty miles in width, has for its 
base from which it rises, an elevated plateau or table-land. 
This table-land is of itself from 3200 to 4000 feet high. Be- 
cause this is spoken of as a table-land or plateau, do not 
conculde that it is one great broad level tract. It is far 
from being level. In places it is level, or nearly so, for miles, 
but even then it is cut here and there by streams or dry can- 
yons, these often having rough, rocky and steep sides, and in 
other places traversed by ridges of moderate hills, and in 
some places there may be found a single butte or maybe a 
group of buttes running up with steep rocky slopes to the 
height of two or three hundred feet or more. Still the 
whole country, outside of the mountains is spoken of as a 
plateau or table-land, even though it has, in general, a very 
uneven surface. 

The Black Hills holds two noted summer resorts — Hot 
Springs in the southeastern part, and Spearfish canyon in 
the northern part. Long before the white people ever heard 
of the Hot Springs and the healing virtues of its waters, the 
Indians made use of it as medicine waters. The Sioux or 
Dakota Indians called the springs Minne-Katah, or water 
warm. It is a peculiarity of the Dakota language that the 
qualifying adjective always follows the noun which it modi- 
fies ; as Weah-washtay, woman good ; Minne-sela, water red ; 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 169 

Kongra-tongra, crow big. However, those people who visit 
the Hot Springs of South Dakota for their health, or who 
take a trip to Wind Cave, or who camp for a week or two 
in Spearfish Canyon for an outing, see little of the Black 
Hills and know little about them on their return. If you 
would really know the Black Hills, leave the beaten trails — 
do not go where everyone else goes, but go where no one else 
goes, or, at any rate, where few others go. By so doing you 
will learn to know the Black Hills. 

Although the Black Hills are so nearly completely cov- 
ered with a growth of evergreen timber as to give them, 
when seen at a distance, a deep dark color, there is yet much 
of the surface that is treeless. In the lower parts of the 
hills the timber is confined chiefly to the canyons, the side 
ravines and pockets in the hillsides, and the north slopes — ■ 
the level tracts and the south slopes being nearly treeless. 
As higher elevations are reached the timber becomes denser 
and heavier, and thickets of quaking aspen and second- 
growth groves of pine and spruce appear, making dense 
thickets in many places. At an elevation of 5000 to 6000 
feet the surface is mostly covered with timber, but even then 
it is greatly diversified by many open treeless tracts called 
parks, covered only with grass and containing anywhere 
from an acre or two up to hundreds of acres of open country. 
These parklike tracts, surrounded with dense forest are ex- 
tremely attractive. Sometimes these parks take the form 
of open glades, a quarter or a half mile long, and only a few 
rods wide, covered with densely growing grass a foot or so 
high, with an abundant variety of bright colored flowers. 

Do not conclude that the Black Hills country is all of it 
made up of rough, rocky ragged hills and canyons — some 
of it is, much of it in fact, but there are hundreds of tracts 
of smooth, undulating, or sloping land, varying from a few 
acres to hundreds of acres in a tract. There are wagon 
trails leading through in many places, these, of course, hold- 



170 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

ing to the easiest grades. One can travel through the moun- 
tains from east to west, or from south to north in some places 
with a team,or can go in most places on horseback, or any- 
where he pleases on foot. Altogether I consider it about 
the most delightful camping grounds I have ever visited. 
Firewood and shelter for the camp, grass for the horses, and 
good water can be found everywhere after the mountains 
are once entered. Some of the streams of the foothills, and 
also a little way up in the mountains are impregnated with 
gypsum or other minerals, making the water bad, but once 
in the mountains the water is all pure and fine. Nearly or 
quite all the streams are stocked with trout. These trout 
were planted there within the last twenty years. Originally, 
it is claimed, that there were no trout on the eastern slope 
of the Rocky mountains, but they were abundant on the 
western side. At any rate, this is in accordance with the 
opinions of the first explorers, and of the early writers. I 
also know for myself that when I followed the Overland 
Trail across the plains in 1852, the fishermen in our party 
caught no trout in the Sweet Water, nor in any other 
branches of the Platte, but as soon as the creeks flowing into 
Green and Snake rivers were reached they got trout in 
plenty. 

The Black Hills region is a beautiful, romantic, attrac- 
tive place — we ought to get better acquainted with it. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 171 



CHAPTER XXIII. 
Two Black Hills Bear Stories. 

No. 1. 

All of the stories written thus far are recollections of my 
own past experiences, and are true to the letter in every re- 
spect — this story, with the one to follow, will be told as told 
to me by others who took part in the things that occurred 
but will, I believe, be true and faithful descriptions of the 
events related. 

This is to be a bear story. I cannot tell a bear story 
from my own knowledge because it never has been my good 
fortune to have had any experience in hunting bears. Hence 
it is necessary to give this story at second hand, or leave it 
out altogether. 

Along about 1882, or may be, somewhat later, there was 
a man living in the vicinity of Tilden by the name of William 
Smith. Many of the Tilden people will no doubt remem- 
ber him — he run a threshing machine for two or three years 
for Allen Hopkins, and while doing threshing for the farm- 
ers I became acquainted with him. Later he moved to the 
Black Hills, and squatted on a tract of land at the eastern 
foot of Elk mountain in extreme western South Dakota. I 
have passed in sight of his place several times while on hunt- 
ing trips to the Hills, and once made him a neighborly call, 
for old acquaintance sake, and by invitation stayed to dinner. 
He told me all about the bear hunt that will be here related, 
and showed me the tanned skins of the three bears that were 
killed upon that occasion. I did not take down notes of our 
conversation at the time, as I then had no idea of writing 
out the story. However, about a year ago I thought of put- 



172 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

ting an account of it on paper, and in order to refresh my 
memory I called on D. V. Coe, who now lives in Neligh, and 
got the main facts from him, jotting down notes of our talk 
at the time. Mr. Coe was a near neighbor of Mr. Smith in 
the Black Hills country and knew all about the facts at the 
time they occurred. 

In the fall of 1890 a man by the name of Leavitt, who I 
think was boarding at Smith's ranch, while hunting came 
across what seemed to be a bear's den. It was late in the 
season, and winter was close at hand, it being about the time 
of year for the bears to den up for the winter. It is the 
habit of the bears of the United States, both the grizzly and 
the black kind, to go into winter quarters on the approach of 
very cold weather, where they hibernate, as it is called, until 
spring. They become very fat during the fall months, and 
at the proper time going into their winter dens, they sleep 
through the cold winter, eating nothing during the time. In 
the spring they come out poor and ravenously hungry. This, 
however, is not the habit of the white bears of the Arctic 
regions — they do not hibernate, but roam abroad the whole 
of the Arctic winter. These explanations are made for the 
younger readers, who are not supposed to be as well posted 
in these matters as the older ones. 

Mr. Leavitt looked the ground over until satisfied that 
it was really a den occupied by two or more bears. Return- 
ing to the ranch without disturbing the bears, if indeed they 
were at home, at the time, and reporting to Mr. Smith, they 
determined to go after them without delay. 

The den was in a ledge of rocks in Hell's canyon, up in 
the rough mountains ten or twelve miles northeast of Smith's 
place. Several years afterwards I made quite a careful 
survey of the place, going several miles out of my way to 
see a real bear's den. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 173 

Hell's Canyon — I do not know why so named, unless 
it is because it is the deepest, roughest, biggest canyon in all 
that part of the Hills — is about twenty-five miles long with 
very high, steep, shelving sides, with perpendicular walls in 
many places, the bottom in some places filled with a tangle 
of brush, and piles of big rocks that have rolled down from 
the steep rocky hillsides. The adjacent mountain sides are 
more or less thickly covered with evergreen timber. If the 
roughest spot possible is a good place for a bear's den then 
Hell's Canyon ought to furnish any number of them. 

In this case the den itself was formed by a rock and 
earth slide from the steep hillside above to a wide ledge of 
flat rocks which had arrested the slide so that it was piled 
up in such way as to form a hollow inside the rocks of sev- 
eral feet in extent with an opening out to the rock ledge, 
thus forming a den or cave, protected from the wind and 
storms of winter. In front of the opening or entrance to 
the den there was, first, a flat, level surface of rock for eight 
or ten feet, then a perpendicular fall of perhaps eight feet, 
and next a very steep slope of fifty to seventy-five feet to the 
bottom of the canyon. 

When Smith and Leavitt went after the bears, they 
got two other men to go with them — Smith and the two 
men being armed with repeating rifles, Leavitt having only 
a large caliber revolver. Arriving at the den the first thing 
to be done was to find whether or not the bears were at home. 
It was arranged that Leavitt should carefully approach to 
the front of the den and find out if he could whether the 
bears were inside, but it was not intended that they should be 
disturbed until he had time to withdraw to a safe distance. 
Leavitt made the reconnoissance all right, and finding the 
bears at home, instead of quickly retiring he shouted, ''Come 
on boys, they are here." The bears were not asleep, but in- 
stead were very much awake, and probably taking the shout 



174 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

for a challenge, the largest one at once made a charge at 
Leavitt, and before he had any chance to shoot or run, she 
seized him by the shoulder, and together they fell over the 
ledge and then rolled for fifty or more feet down the steep 
incline to the bottom. The men had no chance to fire at the 
bear for fear of hitting Leavitt. Smith ran or slid down 
the hill and as soon as there was a chance, putting the rifle 
close to the bear while it was biting away at Leavitt, shot it 
dead. There were two other bears that followed the first 
one out, and these started at once to run off. 

And now a singular thing happened. As the two bears 
were running away the one in the lead was shot in the body 
— this did not bring it down, but did make it mad, and turn- 
ing about it charged the other bear with great fury. It is 
said that this is not a very unusual thing for a bear to do 
when hit by a bullet if in company with other bears. The 
two bears were easily killed. The large bear that had at- 
tacked Leavitt was an old she one, the other two much 
smaller, and were supposed to have been a year old the pre- 
vious spring, as they were much too large for mere cubs. 

Leavitt was seriously hurt, having been bitten hard and 
badly clawed up, but no bones were broken. It is a wonder 
he was not killed outright. Probably the bear had little 
chance to do any fighting while rolling down the hill, and 
Smith came on in good time to save the man's Hfe. It seems 
incredible that a man would be so rash as to do as Leavitt 
did in front of a bear's den. 

These bears were grizzlies, the most dangerous animal 
on the American continent, excepting only the white bear of 
the Arctic regions, or perhaps also the great bear of western 
Alaska and of the Alaskan islands, which is a first cousin of 
the grizzly. 

Some time after the bear hunt described above, Mr. 
Smith with the aid of his dog killed a mountain lion. These 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 175 

animals were, and probably now are very plentiful in the 
rougher and wilder parts of the Black Hills. A number of 
times while hunting deer in the Hills I have seen their tracks 
in the snow but never came across any of the animals them- 
selves, their hunting for game being done almost wholly in 
the night. Like other animals of the cat kind they can see 
in the dark. I have called the animal a mountain lion, al- 
though it is in no sense a lion. The animal goes under dif- 
ferent names in different parts of the country. In the 
eastern and middle states it is variously called panther, 
painter, catamount and cougar — in Canada it is known as the 
cougar — in New and Old Mexico and Arizona it is called 
the puma, and in the Pacific, the mountain and plains states 
it is called generally mountain lion. There are only three 
species of wild animals of the cat kind within the borders of 
the United States proper — the one just named above — the 
others being the Canada lynx and the wildcat or bob cat. 

The mountain lion killed by Mr. Smith was chased by 
his dog, a small courageous little house dog, into a hole in 
the rocks. He was driven from his retreat by smoke, and 
shot by Mr. Smith as he came out. 

No. 2. 

Theodore Roosevelt spent a number of years as a ranch- 
man on the Little Missouri river in western North Dakota 
when that country was very new and wild, and while it was 
occupied only by cattlemen and hunters. While living the 
life of a ranchman, he also did a good deal of hunting, and 
from his experiences as a game hunter during that time he 
has written four very interesting and instructive books, en- 
titled ''Hunting Trips of a Ranchman," "Hunting Trips on 
the Prairie," Hunting the Grizzly" and "The Wilderness 
Hunter." These four books are without exception the best 
hunting stories I have ever read. They are far more inter- 



176 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

esting to me than his "African Game Trails," probably from 
the fact that they treat of the game found, and of hunting 
done in our own country. 

Mr. Roosevelt's style as a writer is very clear, concise, 
direct and attractive, which, of course, tends to make his 
books all the more readable. Besides he sticks to the facts 
and is accurate in what he has to say. If any young friends 
really want the best hunting stories pubHshed, they should 
get these four volumes, or, if they cannot afiford them all, 
get the ''Wilderness Hunter," which, to me, is the best of 
them all. 

Once he made a trip to the Black Hills which lie two or 
three hundred miles south of his ranch, and, although he did 
little or no hunting there, he speaks of them in one of his 
books as ''fairly swarming with game." He also mentions 
one man. Col. Roger D. WilHams of Lexington, Ky., who 
spent the entire winter of 1875 hunting in the Black Hills, 
with his men, horses and hounds. His method was to hunt 
on horseback, turning his greyhounds loose whenever game 
was sighted, and racing after them with the horses. xA.c- 
cording to the account given they got a great many wolves 
and antelopes. Probably they could get few, if any, deer, 
owing to the rough character of the ground, and the fre- 
quent dense thickets where deer would be found. I can 
readily believe from what I know of the Black Hills, that no 
place in the United States at that date, or say up to the year 
1890, surpassed the Black Hills region as a game country. 
On the plateau or table-land surrounding the Hills there 
were thousands on thousands of antelope — from the rough 
foothills to the high timbered tracts in the interior of the 
mountains there were thousands of black tail deer — white tail 
deer were found everywhere in the timber and among the 
brush thickets, at an altitude of 5000 to 6000 feet. Still higher 
up among the rough crags of the summits of the mountains 
there were droves of mountain sheep, while herds of elk 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 177 

roamed everywhere throughout that region. Besides these 
there were wolves, mountain Hons and grizzly bears, and in 
the timbered parts there were black bears. Not farther back 
than 1875, there were also great herds of buffalo all through 
that country. Now it is different. The buffalo, the elk and 
the mountain sheep have entirely disappeared. There are an- 
telope on the plains, but in greatly diminished numbers — the 
black and grizzly bears and mountain lions are confined to 
the rough interior parts of the mountains, and the big gray 
wolves are very scarce. Black tail deer are still quite plen- 
tiful in the very rough parts best suited to their nature, and 
there are still a good many white tail deer high up where 
there is much timber and many thickets of brush that afford 
them cover. Both kinds of deer will probably always be 
found in the mountains, and there will still be antelope on 
the plains, because these are now all protected by very strict 
laws. The bears, mountain lions and wolves will finally be 
killed off, and they ought to be, because they destroy farm- 
ers' stock as well as weaker wild animals. 

Thus far this has nothing to do with the bear story to 
follow, but it is written because it is well for us all to know 
of, and to hold in mind the conditions that existed in a large 
tract of country so very near to us only a single generation 
ago. 

In the fall of 1891 there was a man by the name of 
Mason who owned and run a sawmill in Weston county, 
Wyoming, just on the western side of the Black Hills. His 
mill was located on the bank of a stream called Beaver creek, 
and near the saw mill was a plank bridge spanning the 
stream. Mr. Mason kept a yoke of oxen that were used in 
hauling logs to the mill, and when not in use these oxen ran 
at large with some other cattle. There had been some trou- 
ble from the wild animals infesting the nearby hills, 
but as yet no serious losses. One night Mr. Mason was 
awakened by the cattle running past, either up or down the 



178 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

valley, but he did not go out to make any investigation. It 
is not easy for a grizzly bear to catch a young, active steer 
or heifer in a fair race — it could be done by wolves, but 
wolves would not be very likely to come so near the buildings 
for that purpose, while a mountain lion would probably lie 
concealed and spring upon its prey, taking it unawares. Mr. 
Mason, thinking that probably the cattle could take care of 
themselves, did not go out to look after them until morning. 
In the morning he found one of the oxen mired down in the 
creek under the bridge. Three or four bridge planks had 
been torn up and pushed to one side, and some animal, stand- 
ing on the bridge, had made a meal off the back of the ox, 
literally eating him alive. The ox, though almost dead, was 
still breathing when found. Of course, it was a grizzly bear, 
as no other wild animal had half strength enough to tear 
up the planks of the bridge, in order to get at the ox. The 
ox, when chased in the night, evidently not being able to out- 
run the bear, had taken refuge under the bridge, and the 
bear, by the use of his immense strength, tore off the bridge 
planks and, thus, easily getting at his helpless prey, partook 
of his supper at leisure. 

It was thought that the bear would be likely to return 
the next night for another meal, and it was determined to lie 
in wait for him. Accordingly Mr. Mason sent for Sam 
Coe to help him as he watched for the bear the next night. 

Sam Coe is an Antelope county product, having been 
raised to manhood in the Grecian Bend neighborhood, but 
at the time these things happened he was living with his 
father's family only a few miles from Mason's sawmill. Sam 
was, and still is, a crack shot and an expert hunter, having 
more than a local reputation in that line throughout the 
Black Hills country. 

But the bear did not come back, or if he did, he took 
their scent and made off without showing himself. The 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 179 

next night after this, there was a snow, but still the bear did 
not come back, and Mr. Mason determined to take a turn in 
the hills and see if he could find signs of him. He found 
the bear, all right, but he did not live to tell of it. 

As Mason did not return when expected, his wife, be- 
coming uneasy about him, took his track and following it into 
the hills only a mile or so from the house, found his dead and 
mangled body lying in the snow by the side of a log. Help 
was summoned and the body brought in and cared for. 

The rest of this story is gathered from the tell-tale 
tracks in the snow which gave a very clear and concise ac- 
count of what happened. 

Within a mile or less of home Mr. Mason had come 
upon the fresh tracks of the bear, and following them into 
a dense thicket of brush and trees, had suddenly come upon 
the bear, which immediately charged him. Mason fired at 
close range, giving the bear a wound that would finally 
have proved mortal, but which did not hinder him from 
making a furious charge. The rifle was found in the snow 
with an empty shell jammed in the magazine. Finding that 
he could not reload. Mason threw down the gun and started 
to climb a tree. When up ten or twelve feet from the ground 
the bear seized him by one heel, pulled him to the ground 
and continued to bite and maul him until he seemed to be 
dead. The bear then left his victim and retired into the 
brush some distance away and lay down to nurse his own 
wound. How long Mason lay where the bear left him is 
not known, but he did finally come to himself again, and 
started towards home. He went a short distance, however, 
when coming to a log, he sat down upon it to dress his 
wounded heel, which was terribly lacerated by the bite 
given by the bear when pulling him down from the tree. 
Mason took off both his outside and undershirt, and putting 
the outer shirt on again, tore up the undershirt into strips 
and began to do up his heel, when he was attacked by the 



180 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

bear and this time was killed. All this was made plain to 
those who afterward investigated the matter. 

The bear was too badly hurt to go very far. He re- 
treated a short distance into a deep canyon that was filled 
with a dense growth of brush, and bounded by perpendicular 
rock walls on either side. The men who followed him up 
did not venture into the canyon, but keeping up on the rocks 
where they could see what was going on below, they sent 
in two dogs on the track. He was soon routed out of his 
bed, but put up a good fight, and killed one of the dogs be- 
fore being shot from above by one of the men. His skin 
was mounted by a taxidermist and placed on exhibition in 
Newcastle, Wyoming. Twice, when in Newcastle, I went 
to see it. He stood erect upon his hind feet, his fore paws 
resting on a pole, the top of his head being about seven 
feet from the floor. He surely was a big fellow. He was 
of the variety of the grizzly bear known as the silvertip. 
His weight I could not exactly ascertain, but it was some- 
where between 900 and 1000 pounds. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 181 

CHAPTER XXIV. 
Hunting Stories and Habits of the Wild Animals. 

My whole life from infancy to the present time has 
been spent either on or near the frontier. This country, 
right here in Antelope county, which has now been settled 
forty-seven years, is the oldest settled place that I have ever 
lived in. Although it is still a new country here, or at least 
is so regarded, it is taking on, or rather has already taken 
on the appearance, and customs, and peculiarities of an old 
settled country. However, if there is still a frontier coun- 
try anywhere in the United States, which perhaps is ques- 
tionable, we who live here in Antelope county are living 
close neighbor to it. Large portions of the western part of 
Nebraska are still about as new as any part of the United 
States proper, excepting, of course, desert and mountain- 
ous tracts unfit for settlement. It is not at all strange that 
one who has spent nearly the whole of a long life amid the 
scenes common to the frontier, should look back longingly 
to the former days, after such changes have taken place 
about him as to remove all traces of those primitive sur- 
roundings that were once so familiar and attractive. Rather 
would it be strange if he did not look back to those times 
and scenes of long ago with a feeling of regret akin to home- 
sickness. 

It is probable that not a few of the pioneers of Ante- 
lope county who have been spared to the present time, would 
pull out and go to a new country a thousand miles away, if 
such a place could be found as rich in soil, and as attractive 
in appearance, and in every way as inviting as was Antelope 
county in the early days — that is, of course, if they had 
health and strength to do so. The fascination of frontier 



183 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

life never entirely dies out when once it has taken posses- 
sion of one's being. It is this love and longing for the olden 
times that is one of the incentives to the writing of these 
articles. 

During thirty or more years of my frontier life, I hunt- 
ed some, at least every year — not that I was a professional 
hunter, making hunting a business, for I was not, but be- 
cause at first we needed the meat for food, and later partly 
for the fun of it, and partly because we had become very 
fond of fresh venison, and longed for it every fall if we did 
not have it. 

This story, unlike the most of those that have preceded 
it, will not be an account of a single hunting trip, but in- 
stead, will tell of some of the rather unusual things that 
sometimes befall a hunter or a traveler in a wild unsettled 
country, and at the same time it will, to a certain degree, 
show off the habits of the wild animals as seen in their na- 
tive haunts. 

A very attractive way to study the habits of the deer, 
antelope, elk and other wild denizens of the prairie and of 
the woods is to watch them unobserved, either from a dis- 
tance with a field glass, or nearby when screened from their 
sight. I have done this many times — sometimes when trac- 
ing the section lines over the prairie with a compass ; some- 
times when carrying a gun, but when game was not needed, 
and therefore the gun was not used, and sometimes, when 
hunting, I have lain concealel for several minutes watch- 
ing the actions of the game before taking a shot. Upon one 
or two occasions I waited too long before shooting and lost 
the chance altogether. 

This happened at one time when I was hunting with 
D. E. Beckwith in Wheeler and Garfield counties. We had 
gone into camp in the western part of Wheeler county at 
a place where there were some high sand hills, known as 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 183 

the Tumbledumps. One of these hills was a big, deep blow- 
out, the sand having been scooped out by the wind on the 
northwestern side to a depth of twenty or more feet, and 
in the bottom of the cavity thus formed, there was always 
a pool of fresh, clear water, excepting only in a very dry 
season. It was a good camping place, there being water, 
shelter from the wind, afforded by the big hills, and plenty 
of grass nearby for the horses. The only drawback was a 
scarcity of fuel for the campfire. There was no timber nor 
brush anywhere near, but there were the dead, dry roots of 
the red root shrub that had been uncovered by the wind, 
which made an excellent fire, but which were not plentiful 
at this camp. The horses having been put out on picket 
ropes, Dan busied himself fixing up the camp while I struck 
out to gather up an armful of red roots for the fire. While 
gathering the fuel, I noticed across the valley, a mile to the 
northeast, a big herd of elk, feeding just at the edge of the 
sand dunes beyond the valley. They were headed toward 
the northwest — the wind coming from that direction. Elk 
are always very cautious, and travel either into or across 
the wind, and when they stop feeding to lie down, they 
choose a place where the wind will bring the scent of dan- 
ger from one direction, and where they can see an enemy 
approaching from any other direction. When disturbed they 
invariably run into the wind. We concluded it was too late 
to go after them that evening. There was no danger that 
the elk would get our scent and leave during the night un- 
less the wind should change to the south, which was not 
at all likely. We therefore felt pretty sure of getting an elk 
or two next day, and that would have been the result, if I 
had not become more interested in studying the elk, than 
in shooting them. 

The next morning the elk were still in plain sight 
across the valley, not having moved more than half a mile 
during the night. We had an early breakfast and were 



184 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

ready to start as soon as it was light. Dan gave the elk 
up to me, saying, 'They are yours by right of discovery," 
and shouldering his rifle started off in an opposite direction. 
It did not make much difference at that early day, and in 
that part of the country where one hunted — there was game 
to be found almost every day, though it could not always 
be brought down. 

It was not very difficult to approach the elk, but it took 
a long time, as a distance of at least three miles had to be 
traversed to reach them, although the elk were not much, 
if any, more than a mile away to the west of north, they 
still being on the north edge of an intervening valley about 
a mile wide. First, I followed down the valley to the south- 
east about a half mile, hidden by a low ridge, then crossed 
the valley to the northeast, about a mile from the elk, but 
most of the time in sight of them. Much of the way in the 
valley the grass was tall enough to partially screen one from 
sight. At that distance, however, either elk or deer do not 
seem to notice a man walking — antelope would probably 
have seen me and would have run down within a quarter of 
a mile, or so, to make an investigation. After gaining the 
low rolls of sand hills and knolls on the north side of the 
valley the rest of the approach was quite easy. When within 
fifty or sixty rods of the game there was an intervening 
tract of low wet ground with coarse grass, crisscrossed by 
game trails and in places covered with ice. This had to be 
crossed by crawling on hands and knees. The weather had 
been moderate enough for the ice to melt somewhat, making 
it wet and sloppy part of the way. Before getting near 
enough to shoot, my mittens were wet through and my feet 
and legs were wet to the knees. However, similar, or even 
worse, conditions are not uncommon in hunting. One can- 
not choose the place where the game will be found, and if 
he cannot undergo some unpleasant phases, such as wet feet, 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 185 

cold weather, bad storms, ill luck, poor camping places and 
the like, he had better stay at home and hunt rabbits. 

The elk were feeding very near to, and on the south- 
west side of this partly swampy tract. By screening myself 
behind a big bunch of grass I could easily take in the sit- 
uation. They were quite closely together, none were lying 
down, most of them were feeding, but several of the smaller 
ones were playing together like young colts. They would 
stamp and strike at each other, and once two of them reared 
up on their hind feet, standing almost straight up, and strik- 
ing at each other with their fore feet. I became interested 
and forgot to shoot, although two or three times, picking out 
a fine cow elk and taking aim, I neglected to pull the trigger. 
They could not possibly smell me as the wind was in my 
favor, but once in a while I got a good strong smell of them. 
A big herd of elk can easil}^ be scented a quarter of a mile 
away when the wind is favorable. 

After watching them for some time — ten minutes, any- 
way, or perhaps a quarter of an hour, I thought it about 
time to take a shot, and was in the act of trying to get two 
cow elk in range, so as to bring down two at once, if pos- 
sible, when all at once they threw up their heads and started 
to run, going directly northwest into the wind. I was sure 
they had neither seen nor winded me, and was puzzled. They 
did not run far before they bunched and stopped. They 
were still near enough for a chance shot, which, however, 
I did not care to take. Their noses now all pointed south- 
ward and looking in that direction about a quarter of a mile 
off I saw Jake Gier on one knee in the act of firing his rifle. 
The shot only scared them, however, and they were soon 
out of sight in the sand hills. 

Meeting with Jake, I found that he and someone else 
were out on a hunt and were camped about two miles away. 
I told Jake he could have my interest in those elk — I would 



186 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

go back and move camp. The experience, however, was on 
the whole pleasant and profitable. I have never had a bet- 
ter chance upon any occasion to study the habits of a herd 
of elk. 

Jake Gier may have been a good marksman, I do not 
know as to that, but he surely was no hunter or he never 
would have tried to approach the elk across an open valley 
that afforded almost no cover to shield him from sight. 

That afternoon we moved camp and finally crossed the 
Cedar river in Garfield county, camping among the willows 
in the edge of the sand hills. Here I had rather an unusual 
experience hunting black tail deer which will form the chief 
subject of the next chapter. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 187 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Hunting Stories and Habits of Wild Animals — Continued. 

After losing my chances at the elk, as related in the 
last chapter, I went straight back to camp, and as soon as 
Dan came in, we struck camp, loaded up and pulled out in 
a southwest course for Cedar river, about twelve miles away. 
We did not stop to hunt at all on the way — in fact this was 
not really a hunting trip as will be hereafter explained, but 
we did want to get a few deer to take back home to give 
our families a first feed of venison for the season. 

As has been explained in Chapter XIV, only twice did 
I ever kill any game for market, my hunting with those two 
exceptions having been done to get food for the family, and 
to furnish for a few days each year the most exciting and 
pleasurable recreation for myself. It is proper also to add 
that for two seasons, 1872 and 1873, while in the employ of 
the land department of the B. & M. R. R. Co., I hunted to 
supply the surveyors' camp with venison. For this I got 
no extra pay, as I was employed by the railroad company 
at a certain price per month as surveyor, and most of the 
game for the camp was killed while about my regular work. 
A few times however, when the camp was short of meat I 
was delegated to take a day or two off for the purpose of 
hunting. 

At the suggestion of Mr. George Clother, proprietor 
of the Clother House of Columbus, Neb., we — that is, Mr. 
D. E. Beckwith and myself — were intending later in the 
season to kill a load of game for the Columbus market. It 
was too early as yet in the season to kill game for market 
since the weather should be cold enough to freeze the game 
quickly, and to keep it frozen until offered for sale. 



188 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

We were now out on a scouting trip, looking for the 
best hunting grounds, where a few weeks later we would 
be likely to get a big load of game in the shortest possible 
time. It was the last of October, or possibly the very first 
of November. There had as yet been no snow at all, and, 
although the nights were sharp and frosty, the days were 
mostly warm, as is generally the way in our Nebraska cli- 
mate at that season of the year. We wanted to find a place 
where black tail deer were the most plentiful, and where 
there would likely be a herd or two of elk — white tail deer 
we knew would be found everywhere along the streams and 
level bottom lands where there were willow thickets and 
big grass. We therefore spent most of the time going from 
place to place, stopping generally only a single night at one 
camping ground. 

Not liking the camping place on the northeast side of 
the Cedar, the stream was forded, and following up along 
the southwest side several miles a good camp was made 
among the willows on a little tributary stream. We were 
now camped well up toward the head of Cedar river in what 
was afterward called Garfield county, but was then a part 
of Wheeler county. West of us there was a large tract of 
country, several miles in extent, of exceedingly rough sand 
hills and ridges, without valleys of any considerable size. It 
was thought best to explore this rough tract in order to 
determine whether or not it should be the place for our con- 
templated hunt later in the season. 

The next morning, leaving the horses in camp, we 
struck out afoot, going in dififerent directions, as we both 
preferred to hunt separately. Up to this time we had not 
hunted much, and the game killed was only one deer apiece 
— thanks to my negligence in letting the herd of elk get 
away without firing a shot. This proved to be a very bad 
day for hunting. It did not storm, but there was a fierce 
northwest wind all day long. Game does not move about 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 189 

much at such a time, and there is Httle chance of finding 
it unless one stumbles on it by accident. However it proved 
to be my lucky day, and something very unusual happened. 
It is, as before stated, for the purpose of telling some of the 
unusual and surprising things that sometimes happen to a 
hunter that some of these stories are written. 

I had gone perhaps two miles from camp in a north- 
westerly direction, following the general course of the 
stream, but working gradually into the sand hills, when I 
saw directly ahead, and about a quarter of a mile away, a 
bunch of black tail deer . There were ten or twelve of them, 
all lying down under the lee of a high sand ridge, well up 
towards its top. Dropping down quickly into the grass I 
watched them for some time, partly to discover, if possible, 
whether they had seen me or not, and partly to find out the 
best way of approach. Nearby, a short distance to my left, 
was a small blow-out, and at its base were several clumps 
of ash trees. Crawling through the grass to the cover thus 
afforded, I was able to walk toward the game for some dis- 
tance, as there was then one or two other little hills in range 
with the deer that also furnished shelter from their sight. 
As I was passing the blow-out a black tail buck very delib- 
erately walked out of it over its northern rim within twenty 
steps of where I was standing. He did not see me until the 
motion of throwing the rifle to my shoulder drew his at- 
tention, when he stopped, turned his head towards me, but 
did not seem to be at all afraid. How many times since 
have I thought, what a picture that would have made had 
I been armed with a camera instead of a rifle. My conscience 
almost smites me even today, when there comes to my mind 
the thought of the time after time that I have been guilty 
of taking advantage of those innocent animals when they 
were utterly unaware of danger. Even at one time I shot 
a black tail deer when he was asleep and nodding, exactly 
as a drowsy person will do. Possibly I may tell of it some 



190 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

time in another story. But there was no chance to consider 
the question at that time. The aim was caught, the trigger 
pulled, and the hair was seen to curl where the bullet struck 
just back of the shoulder. The deer turned, and giving one 
strong bound in an instant was out of sight in the blow-out. 
Another cartridge was thrown in, and I was just at the point 
of taking a step toward the blow-out, when another deer 
came out on the jump, saw me and stopped to look. Again 
I fired, but so quickly that I could not tell whether the deer 
was struck or not. He, like the first one, turned, and with 
one big jump landed out of sight in the blow-out. I had 
not taken more than a step or two when out came another 
deer, or one of the same that had already appeared, I could 
not tell which, they all looked just ahke. I supposed how- 
ever that it was the second one shot at, for it seemed cer- 
tain that the first one was hard hit, while it was uncertain 
whether the second one was hit at all or not. This last one, 
however, kept on running but was tumbled over before he 
was sixty steps away. I now looked about to see what had 
happened. I found one dead deer lying in the blow-out, and 
another, the last one, where he fell about sixty steps further 
north. Taking care of the two deer as quickly as possible, 
and washing my hands in a pool of clear water at the bottom 
of the blow-out, and shouldering the rifle I started north 
to see what had become of the herd of a dozen or so that 
I was creeping up to when I accidentally found the two just 
killed. To my surprise they were in the same place they 
were in when first seen. The wind was so strong from the 
north that either they did not hear the crack of the rifle, or 
else the sound was so deadened by the wind that they did 
not notice it. It was easy to approach within seventy-five 
or eighty steps, and lying flat on the ground, the rifle rest- 
ing on a little hummock of earth on top of a knoll and tak- 
ing careful aim I fired and missed. I never had a fairer 
shot and, as I thought, never took more careful aim. The 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 191 

deer was a big doe, lying down, breast toward me. The 
shot went too low, just cutting out a bunch of hair at the 
lower point of the brisket, the bullet burying itself in the 
sand underneath the deer. They all went over the hill in 
an instant. Among them was a very large buck with wide 
spreading horns. I did not see these deer again, but going 
on I got two shots at white tail deer, missing one clear, and 
sHghtly wounding another. 

By this time it was well past noon, and the day being 
so disagreeable I turned back toward camp. I found too 
that I had only one cartridge left. At that time I did not 
own a cartridge belt, but carried the cartridges loose in my 
pockets. The rifle used was not a magazine gun but the 
single-shot, breech-loading Sharps carbine mentioned in 
some of the previous articles. I think it was the only time 
in all my hunting experiences that I failed to take along 
ammunition enough to last through the day. 

On the way back to camp I got to thinking about the 
two black tail bucks killed at the little blow-out, and all at 
once it came to my mind that perhaps there might have been 
three deer instead of two. Changing my course slightly I 
went back to look the ground over again. On arriving at 
the rim of the blow-out, sure enough there were fresh tracks 
where a deer had gone out at a low place on the southwest 
side of the blow-out. Following the tracks in the sand there 
soon began to be blood on either side, and within a hundred 
steps the deer was seen lying down. He jumped up and 
started to run, but it was plain that he was badly hurt. I 
gave him the last cartridge, which only made a flesh wound, 
but did not help matters at all. I studied it over a little while 
as to what it was best to do, whether to leave him for the 
present, or to run him down afoot, and decided to try the 
latter. Taking off my coat and leaving it with the gun I 
started in on the race. I had read that the Apache Indians, 



192 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

by relieving each other every few hours by several fresh 
relays, will run down a well deer and I had plenty of con- 
fidence that I could easily outrun this badly wounded one. 
But I soon found out my mistake — he outwinded me. In 
a quarter of an hour or so, I gave it up, concluding I had 
had enough exercise for one day. The next morning we 
moved camp early to the place where the three deer had 
been shot. The wounded one was found dead very near 
where I had left him the preceding day. 

These three were all young deer, probably two years 
old the previous spring. They all looked exactly alike and 
were of the same size. Doubtless they had been driven from 
the herd by the master buck, and were thus keeping together 
for company. Such is the habit of both elk and black tail 
deer — the younger bucks when driven out will herd in twos 
and threes, but an old fellow who has himself been the boss 
of the herd, and has been overcome in battle always goes 
by himself. 

I have never seen a battle between two deer or two elk, 
but I once killed a black tail buck in Logan township not 
more than four miles from where Elgin now stands, that 
had gotten the worst of it in battle. His hide was pricked 
full of holes in several places by the sharp horns of his rival, 
and in two places these had become running sores. I left 
him lying on the ground where he fell, not even saving the 
hide. 

We remained two nights at this camp, and what a camp 
it was ! How pleasant to call to mind the comfort, the pleas- 
ure, the satisfaction, with which we spent the two remaining 
days before starting for home. There was our little warm 
tepee of straight ash poles with an old carpet for a cover, 
a bright warm camp fire of ash wood, shelter from the wind 
under the lee of the big hills, clear water for the camp, and 
good pasture for the horses, plenty of provisions brought 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 193 

from home — bread, biscuits, butter, baked beans, flour and 
baking powder for flapjacks, a jug of home-made sorghum, 
sah and pepper for the fresh venison, doughnuts to be eaten 
with the coffee, appetites that never failed us, weather the 
best ever afforded by our splendid Nebraska climate, neither 
too warm nor too cold — just sharp enough to make vigorous 
exercise a pleasure, and lastly Dan's pipe and tobacco, for 
Dan was a good smoker. 

It makes me homesick. Ring down the curtain! 



194 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 
Hunting Stories and Habits of Wild Animals — Concluded. 

It was the first week in September 1873 that we were 
in camp on Elm creek in Valley county, just at the north 
side of the valley of the North Loup river, and about three 
miles northeast of the place where the city of Ord now 
stands. At that early date, however, there was no Ord, and 
the settlements of Valley county were confined chiefly to 
the immediate valley of the North Loup river, although there 
were three or four settlers located in the valley of the Middle 
Loup, near the present site of Arcadia, and two or three on 
Myra creek, just west of the present site of North Loup 
village. In fact, at that date, Valley, Greeley and Sherman 
counties were only just beginning to settle up, and that only 
in the valleys of the larger streams. The great mass of the 
territory of these counties just mentioned, together with all 
of Custer county, was as yet as primitive a wilderness as it 
was when Lewis and Clark made their memorable journey 
of exploration up the Missouri river, and across the conti- 
nent to Oregon in 1804-6. 

At that time the counties of Wheeler, Greeley, Valley, 
Sherman, Custer, Loup and Blaine were alive with big 
game — elk, white tail deer, black tail deer and antelope. I 
hunted in all the counties named above more or less from 
1871 to 1880, and I have never seen anywhere a better game 
country. Game of all the kinds just mentioned was also 
abundant in Boone, Antelope, Holt and Howard counties, 
but not so very plentiful as in the counties first named. The 
antelope held to the level and undulating tracts of high land, 
and to the smooth wide bottoms of the large streams, where 
they could both see and be seen, but they avoided the ex- 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 195 

tremely rough lands, the patches of timber and brush along 
the streams, and the tracts of half swampy land that occurred 
in some places and that were covered with big grass, rushes, 
reeds and patches of willow brush. The places avoided by 
the antelope were just the very places that afforded a home 
for the white tail deer, excepting the very rough land which 
they did not often visit. Where the land was the roughest 
and most broken into canyons and deep ravines, there the 
black tail deer were at home. They were also plentiful in 
the great sand hill country, wherever it was found in the 
counties named above, and also in the sand hill country far- 
ther west. The elk were at home anywhere and everywhere, 
roaming at will throughout all the territory mentioned above. 
There were also as late as 1873, a few straggling buffalo 
left in that country. It was not my good luck to find any 
of them, but I did see their tracks, and their beds where they 
had lain in the grass on two or three occasions. It surely 
was a great game country where one could take his choice 
as to whether he would hunt antelope or either kind of deer, 
and where he was liable any day to run across a band of elk. 
Besides it was so near to our own home in Antelope county 
that it could easily be reached by team, and if game should 
not be found in the near vicinity of home, it was never more 
than one or two days' drive away. 

Our camp was made up of seven men, four of whom 
were surveyors, two teamsters and camp helpers, and one a 
cook. There were two tents, one a large one, in which the 
surveyors and teamsters slept, and where the meals were 
served, and a smaller one used as a kitchen, and which was 
occupied by Sam, the negro cook. In fine weather the table 
was set, and the meals eaten frequently out of doors in front 
of the big tent. That fall, 1873, we were finishing up the 
examination and platting of the B. & M. R. R. lands. The 
outfit was in charge of J. N. Livingston of Lincoln, Neb., 
and all the men were from the south Platte country except- 



196 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

ing myself. They had just completed the work in Webster 
and Franklin counties, south of the Platte, and had moved 
the outfit across the country to Valley county where we were 
now in camp as already stated. We had been at this camp 
about a week, and one day more would finish the work in 
that neighborhood. As I was the only one of the company 
acquainted with the country, Mr. Livingston put it upon me 
to select the place for the next camp, and for each succeed- 
ing camp, and to guide the outfit as it was moved from 
place to place. They had worked all summer in a country 
where deer were scarce, and where there were no elk, and 
antelope were hard to get, consequently they had had no game 
excepting one wild turkey that one of the men killed in the 
timber on the Republican river, and an occasional mess of 
prairie chickens. They all began to talk venison to me as 
soon as I joined the company, and as I struck out early in 
the morning on horseback to look up the location for a new 
camp, Mr. Livingston wished I might bring home a deer 
when I came back in the evening. 

Our next work would be m Greeley county, and the 
camp would have to be located on the head of Wallace creek, 
as far up the creek as water could be found. It was about 
fifteen miles in a direct line to the place where the next 
camp would be located, but as it was extremely hilly and 
rough part of the way, it would be necessary to travel about 
twenty miles with the wagons in moving camp. The country 
was new and unsettled all the way, and as it was a good 
place for black tail deer and elk, I felt pretty sure of being 
able to comply with Mr. Livingston's wish. I was riding 
Flora — the best and most trusty riding animal I ever owned. 
Anywhere, I could jump off her back, throw the reins down 
over her head, and she would go to feeding at once, and 
wait for my return. If the bridle rein was left over the 
horn of the saddle, she would follow behind like a dog. She 
was not afraid of game ,and would carry any kind upon 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 197 

her back, and was not in the least gun shy. I found the 
game all right and got it, and besides had a day of unusual 
experiences the relating of which, I hope, will be a pleasure 
to those who read it. I had gone five or six miles in a north- 
east direction and had reached the summit of the ridge divid- 
ing the waters of Elm from those of Wallace creek, when 
I reined up the mare to take a good look ahead for game. 
To my left about a quarter of a mile away was a rather deep 
ravine lined with oak and ash trees of small size and an 
undergrowth of choke cherry and plum brush. A half mile 
away to the east it run out, spreading itself out in a weed 
patch as it joined the level flat land. It was a fine resort 
for black tail deer, and in a moment or two I saw two feed- 
ing part way down the bank, on the north side. Slipping 
off the mare and leading her back out of sight I threw down 
the bridle reins and left her to feed. It was necessary to 
make quite a detour in order to keep out of sight. The place 
near where the deer were I had marked by a large clump 
of oak grubs, ten or twelve feet high, that offered a good 
screen. Arriving at the place, cocking my rifle and making 
ready to shoot quickly, I watched for the game several min- 
utes, but could see nothing of it. Then I whistled several 
times and finally, seeing nothing, was about to give it up, 
thinking the deer had gone either up or down the ravine. 
When, just as I was about to turn, one of them jumped out 
of the weeds within ten steps of where I was standing, and 
springing about half way up the steep slope on the other 
side, stopped stock still, turning its head to look at me. I 
was too much surprised to take a safe shot, but pointing the 
gun in that direction, I fired, the shot hitting the bank about 
a foot above the game. The deer made a little start but did 
not run. I fired again, this time taking aim, and shot it 
through the lungs. It made a jump or two, landing in the 
weeds in the ravine, where it fell. The second deer sprang 
out, went half way up the bank and stopped to look at the 



198 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

first deer, which now lay kicking in the weeds. Again I 
fired the gun in the direction of the deer, and plainly saw 
where the ball struck over its back in the bank. This second 
deer did not stir except to start, but kept watching the first 
one. The second shot brought it down, the two falling not 
more than three or four steps apart. I had killed a good 
many deer before this, and thought I could always keep cool 
enough to take accurate aim. Well, this time I had learned 
something new about my ability and my failings as a hunter. 

These deer were young, probably yearlings, were very 
tame, and it is likely, had never seen a man before. Dress- 
ing the deer, laying them in a shady place and covering 
them over with choke cherry bushes, I went on. In two or 
three hours more I had found a pool of clear water at the 
very head of Wallace creek, where there was an abundance 
of dry elm wood and some ash for camp fires, and plenty 
of good grass for the horses. Having seen fresh signs of 
elk, I thought it best to try to get one on my way back to 
camp. Taking a long circuit to the north of the course fol- 
lowed on my way out, I sighted a herd of about twenty-five 
about two o'clock in the afternoon. They were feeding in 
a rather flat sandy country where there were some low knolls 
and an occasional patch of plum bushes, so that it was not 
hard to get near enough for a shot, and besides the wind 
was favorable. Leaving Flora where she would be out of 
sight I approached them on foot. When near enough for a 
long shot, I lay in the grass to wait and watch, as they were 
working along across the wind, and gradually coming near- 
er. My hat was trimmed with grass, and as I lay on my 
stomach, resting on my elbows, this brought my head high 
enough so that the elk were in plain sight through the scat- 
tering stalks of blue stem. What a sight that was ! It was 
too early in the season for the young bucks to be driven out 
of the herd, although the old master buck was there with 
his big branching antlers. There were several, probably five 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 199 

or six younger bucks, not so large as the big one, but yet of 
good size, and there were also cows, calves and yearlings. 
Some were feeding, some playing, and all were moving 
slowly along to the south — the wind being in the west. 
Among those in the lead were two young bucks, probably 
two years old, that were butting and pushing each other and 
rattling their horns together. 

It was time to pick out my elk and do some shooting. 
They were now not over seventy-five steps away. There 
was no excuse for a careless aim this time. Selecting one 
of the young bucks of fair size, but not large, and taking 
careful aim, I fired, the ball striking low down just back of 
the shoulder. He made tv/o or three jumps and fell. The 
herd started to run, but soon bunched and stopped to look 
back. It was easy to get another, but we did not need it, 
and I had never made a practice of killing game when it 
was not wanted. Dressing the elk — a very fine fat one — 
skinning out one ham and cutting the meat from the bone 
in as large pieces as possible, putting it in each end of a 
grain sack in which had been carried oats for Flora's dinner, 
tying the sack behind the saddle and mounting Flora, I went 
back to camp. When within hearing of the cook's tent, I 
listened to Sam who had just begun to get supper. He was 
singing his favorite love ditty the chorus of which ran thus : 

"Ten thousand miles away. 
Ten thousand miles away, 
O, I will go to my true love, 
Ten thousand miles away." 

Sam was a splendid cook — he did his best that night. 
We were all hungry — we were all happy — we had elk steak 
for supper. 



200 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 
Hunting Stories — Lying In Wait for Game. 

Every person who has done much hunting for large 
game, has found out that often the best way to get a shot 
is to He in wait for the game to approach. This is equally 
true whether the hunting is done on the prairie or in the 
timber. All kinds of game travel about a great deal. 

The elk do not seem to have any particular section of 
the country that is home to them, but they roam from one 
part to another, going wherever the feed is good, and where 
water is not far away, because they must have a drink at 
least once in every twenty-four hours. It is their nature 
when feeding or traveling to follow a course that will take 
them either into or across the wind, as they depend upon 
the nose more than upon their eyesight to warn them of 
danger. A band of elk that is found in a certain place at 
one time, will very likely be twenty or thirty miles away in 
a few days or weeks. 

With both kinds of deer it is different. They travel 
about a great deal, but confine their roaming generally to 
a certain territory, a few miles across, within some part of 
which they are pretty sure to be found if it is thoroughly 
hunted. They, too, visit some watering place generally 
once a day. 

The antelope are different both from the elk and from 
the deer. During the season when the fawns are brought 
forth they stick pretty closely to one locality, where they 
remain in little scattered bands until the fawns are half or 
two-thirds grown, when they begin to get together in large 
droves, and soon thereafter journey to the place chosen for 
winter quarters. The winter feeding grounds consist of a 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 201 

large tract of level, undulating, or rolling, but not rough 
country. In such a place they will stay all winter if not too 
much disturbed. Theodore Roosevelt says that no matter 
how far the antelope are from water they go to it once a 
day. I think he is mistaken on that point, however. I be- 
lieve they go several days without water, especially if there 
is dew or an occasional shower, enough to wet the grass. 

Those who read these articles will bear in mind that I 
am speaking from experience gained in Nebraska, where 
nearly all of my observations have been made. Further 
west where climatic and other conditions are not the same, 
the habits of all these animals may be somewhat different. 

All of these different kinds of animals travel about a 
great deal, either while feeding, or going to or from the 
watering places, or to shun some place of fancied danger, 
or without any apparent object in view, other than to keep 
moving. 

The reader can readily see that on the prairie, when 
game is sighted at a distance, moving along in a certain 
direction, it may often be an easy matter for the hunter to 
intercept the line of travel and secrete himself so as to get 
a shot as the game is passing by. In the timber the same 
course can be followed, provided the growth is not very 
dense. 

The elk, and both kinds of deer are not likely to pay 
any attention to a man who is hidden in the grass, or be- 
hind a knoll or clump of bushes, even if his head is in sight, 
provided his hat is trimmed with grass, and provided he 
does not stir, for the least movement will attract attention. 
Neither is it difficult to approach elk, or either kind of deer 
by lying flat and crawling through the grass, if the grass 
is high enough and thick enough to afford a tolerable shel- 
ter. At such a time they are very apt to watch and wait 
until satisfied as to whether there is danger or not. Some- 



202 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

times, even, they will come part way to meet the hunter. 
Of course on all such occasions the wind must be favorable. 
But an antelope cannot be fooled in that way, excepting in 
a remote place where they have not been hunted. They are 
suspicious of any unusual object, and will keep at a sate 
distance. The only way to approach an antelope is to keep 
entirely out of sight, unless they may be blinded by looking 
toward the sun, when it is only a little way above the hori- 
zon. 

Of course I am stating these things as I have learned 
them from my own observations. The experiences of others 
may vary a good deal from my own. 

One more word in regard to the habits of these differ- 
ent kinds of wild animals as to whether they visit the water- 
ing places once a day or not. 

In the early days, here in Antelope county, there were 
many more antelope than deer and elk together, and yet it 
was seldom that an antelope was seen to visit a watering 
place, while the deer were very often seen at, or going to, 
or from the water. Besides where there was a pond or pool 
on the prairie distant from any other watering place, it 
would show many more tracks of deer than antelope, and 
if a herd of elk had recently been in the neighborhood, it 
would be all trampled up by them. 

One time in the early eighties — it must have been in 
1883 or 1884 — I made my last hunt in Wheeler county. 
There had been only a few deer in Antelope county since 
the hard winter of 1880, but there were still a good many 
white tail and a few black tail deer left in Wheeler county, 
especially in the western part about the head of Beaver creek. 
My nephew, W. H. Whitmore, who had never been out on 
a hunt, was very anxious to make one try at it before the 
game all disappeared from this part of the state. A full 
account of the hunt will not be given in detail for the reason 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 203 

that this story is to conform chiefly to the title — "Lying in 
wait for game." 

We were caught in a bHzzard the first night after reach- 
ing our hunting grounds, and were glad to retrace our steps 
three miles the next morning to the sod house of a settler. 
Here we stayed through the storm, helping to twist hay 
for the stove, for they used hay for fuel ; but the sod house 
was warm and comfortable, and twisting hay was good ex- 
ercise. After the storm we went out and had the good luck 
to kill a white tail doe the first day, which kept the family 
of the settler and ourselves eating while we were there. 

The next day we went west into the rough hills, hop- 
ing to find a few black tail deer, but there were no signs 
not even a track. The weather was intensely cold, and my 
companion froze his nose before we had been out an hour. 
Toward noon we found shelter from the keen northwest 
wind in an old blow-out that had become grassed over, and 
gathering up a big pile of red roots, we built a fire and were 
making ourselves comfortable and were just beginning to 
thaw out our luncheon, which had frozen in our pockets, 
when looking over the narrow rim of the blow-out I saw 
something moving that looked Hke a deer, about a mile away 
to the north. With a field glass I could make out three 
white tails just coming out of a range of low sand hills. 
They were traveling toward us, sometimes loping for a little 
way, then walking and stopping to feed, then loping again. 
We hastily covered the fire with loose sand so as to prevent 
the smoke from being seen by the game, and then, as my 
nephew insisted that I should do the shooting, I made ready 
in case they should come near enough. They came on 
straight toward us, and we both kept peering over the rim, 
showing only our heads, and moving as little as possible. 
When about forty rods away they veered a little to the west 
and were passing within easy range when I fired at the 
largest and brought it down. I doubt if they had seen us 



204 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

at all as yet, for the other two, instead of looking toward 
us, ran off a few rods and stopped to watch the fallen deer. 
Another shot brought down the second deer. I believe I 
might have gotten the third one, but in changing my posi- 
tion to get a better chance it saw me and immediately ran 
away, a long distance parting shot failing to hit. We hunt- 
ed one more day without success, and as the weather con- 
tinued very cold and somewhat stormy, we pulled out for 
home. 

One day in 1872, I was hunting in Greeley county to 
get some game for our surveyors' outfit when I got a black 
tail doe by lying in wait. I had nearly crossed a valley and 
was making for some rough hills about half a mile to the 
north, when I distinctly heard three or four shots in quick 
succession. Watching in the direction of the sound, I soon 
saw a black tail doe coming out through a narrow gap in 
the hills, and making directly toward me. There was no 
chance to hide from her as the ground was perfectly level 
where I was standing, and the grass was short. Crouching 
down as low as possible and still be in a position to shoot, 
I made ready in case she came near. She was running fast, 
and without noticing me at all, she was passing within a 
dozen rods, when aiming well ahead of her breast I pulled 
the trigger. She fell at the crack of the rifle, shot through 
both hips, the passage of the ball spoiling quite a bit of the 
best part of the meat. Had I aimed at the shoulders the 
ball would have gone entirely behind her. 

In November, 1871, Mr. E. R. Palmer of Cedar creek 
and myself were hunting in Greeley county in company with 
C. P. Mathewson, John S. McClary and W. H. Lowe of 
Norfolk, and a man by the name of Porter ( I think that is 
the name) of Dakota City, when I had quite an experience 
with an elk for which I lay in wait. A company of six is 
too large to do successful hunting, but as the weather was 
good, and game was plenty and tame, we were having pretty 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 205 

good luck, and were having a good time. All had killed 
some game excepting Lowe and Porter. Lowe had an old 
Spencer carbine that was worthless and he gave up hunting 
and looked after the camp. Porter had a good double bar- 
rel shot gun, but had been unable to get in a shot at close 
range. He thought he could surely get some game if he 
had a rifle. As we were to move camp the next day, and 
as it fell to my lot, as usual, to act as guide to the team in 
moving, and I could therefore do little or no hunting, I 
offered to trade guns with Porter for the day. He was glad 
enough to make the exchange. We were to move about 
fifteen miles, Mr. McClary and Lowe keeping with the team, 
while I, acting as guide, would either go ahead or off some 
distance to one side in search of game. We had gone per- 
haps two miles when I came across a spike horn white tail 
buck, in a little grove of box elder trees. He did not offer 
to run, but stood watching me, not over ten rods away. I 
fired, nearly every buck shot taking effect, and he fell with- 
out hardly making a jump. Loading on the deer, I directed 
those with the team to follow up a certain ridge, and, if I 
did not overtake them to wait near a hill about two miles 
distant but in plain sight. 

Striking off toward the left, and gradually increasing 
the distance from the wagon, I had not gone much more 
than half a mile, and was following up along the side of a 
ravine, when I saw an elk coming over a hill about half a 
mile away. He entered the same ravine I was following 
and was coming down to meet me on a fast trot. There 
was not the least shelter or screen of any kind near me, not 
even any grass, for just there the fire had crossed the ravine 
and burned everything off. I knelt down on one knee and 
waited, thinking the elk would surely see me and turn off 
in some other direction. He came on without paying the 
least attention to me, and was passing within thirty steps 
when I fired one barrel and as he turned, gave him the other 



206 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

one. There was a cut bank six or seven feet high in the 
direction in which he was trying to go, over which he fell, 
striking on his head, and breaking off one horn. Two of 
his legs were broken by the shot, and one buck shot went 
through his heart. 

Porter came to camp at dusk mourning over his bad 
luck and regretting that he did not hang to his shot gun — 
he missed with the rifle, an elk's head, not more than fifteen 
steps away — the body being hidden by some bushes. 

One other unusual thing happened during this hunting 
trip, that will here be related, although it does not properly 
come under the head of "Lying in wait for game." It is 
one of the curious and uncommon things that one will oc- 
casionally meet with if he spends much time among the 
wild animals of the woods and prairies. 

Two or three days before we moved camp, as referred 
to above, I was hunting in company with Charley Mathew- 
son. I suppose he was without a rival as a hunter in all 
this part of the country. At any rate he was the best at a 
running shot of any man with whom I ever hunted. We 
were running ravines together — that is, he would take one 
side of a ravine, and I would take the other, and keeping 
well up near the top of the bank, we would thus trace the 
whole length of it, and if a deer jumped out of the brush 
or weeds, one of us, and perhaps both would be pretty sure 
to get a shot. We had followed one ravine in this manner 
to its head without seing any game except two deer that 
crossed our course ahead of us, then, striking another ravine 
farther west we began following it down to the valley. We 
1 ad not gone far before I saw a black tail buck lying down 
near the bottom of the ravine. He was lying with his head 
from me, in plain sight, and not more than seventy-five 
steps away. Mr. Mathewson was on the other side of a 
small, but deep side draw, and not in position to see the 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 207 

game, or to take any part in the shooting if I happened to 
miss, or if there should be more than one deer. I there- 
fore motioned for him to go farther down and take posi- 
tion on a high point, that would give him a better chance. 
It often happens that while only one deer is in sight, there 
may be several near by, hidden in the brush or weeds. While 
Mr. Mathewson was taking his position, which took probably 
three minutes, I had a chance to study my deer. He was 
asleep, and was nodding. It is the only time I ever saw 
anything of the kind. He would raise up his head, then it 
would begin to nod, nod, two or three times, then come up 
again. As soon as my comrade was in position I took aim 
and fired, the ball striking between the shoulders and coming 
out at the sticking place. 

Those men who pride themselves on being true sports- 
men and boast of it, will say that this was not sportsman 
like — that the deer should have been routed out and given 
a chance for his life. I did not stop to moralize — for five 
years after we settled in Antelope county, if we had any 
meat at all in the family, it came from killing game — this 
year, 1871, was one of the five years. 



f?08 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 
Hunting Stories — Lying in Wait for Game — Concluded. 

This chapter, like the previous one, will give some of 
my experiences in watching and waiting for game to ap- 
proach within shooting distance, after it had been discovered 
when some distance away, and the direction in which it was 
travehng had been determined. I have never had any good 
luck in watching at a run-way, or in lying in wait at one 
end of a swamp or of a bushy ravine, while others under- 
took to drive the game towards me. In every such instance 
the game, if started at all, either turned off in some other 
direction, or else broke cover too far away from my station 
for a shot. But a good many times while hunting in Ne- 
braska and South Dakota, I have discovered game at a con- 
siderable distance, anywhere from a quarter of a mile to a 
mile away, and by noting which way it was traveling, have 
been able to secrete myself in such a position as to get a 
good shot. 

Generally, when hunting, I have carried a field glass, 
and with its help have found game when it was so far off 
that it probably would not have been seen with the naked 
eye. Many times also when something was seen at a dis- 
tance that might or might not be game, the field glass would 
quickly solve the question. I remember one time while 
working on the head of Wallace creek in Greeley county; 
I had been running section lines all day and making plats 
of railroad lands. I was making for camp as fast as I could 
walk, as it was almost night, when I saw a dark object at 
the foot of a clay bank about eighty rods away that looked 
very much like a black tail deer lying down. I thought, 
what a chance to get a good shot if that was only a deer. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 209 

However, I had no gun with me, and did not really think 
it could be a deer, but supposed it to be a weed or a bunch 
of grass. When passing within about two hundred steps 
of the clay bank, the spot got up, stretched itself, looked at 
me for a second, and bounded away around the point of the 
bluff. Had I been hunting at the time and had with me a 
glass, the question as to whether the object was a deer or 
not could have been quickly solved, and most likely a fair 
shot could have been secured. Something quite similar has 
happened many times when I have been out on a hunt, and 
at such a time, and at very many such times in fact, a field 
glass was very convenient. When game is seen traveling 
at the distance of a half mile or more away, one can deter- 
mine the exact course it is taking much better with, than 
without a glass. 

After the year 1888, all the hunting done by me was 
done in the Black Hills, mostly in South Dakota, but to some 
extent in Wyoming. Hunting in the Black Hills was very 
pleasant ; not that game was any plentier than it was on the 
Loup Fork river and its tributaries in the early days, but 
because of the enchanting wildness and wonderful diversity 
and magnificence of the scenery. Whether game was killed 
or not, a hunting and camping trip in the Black Hills was 
always a source of unalloyed pleasure. In fact, I never had 
quite as good luck in getting game in the Black Hills as I 
have had in the country west and southwest of Antelope 
county, but in the Black Hills the best of camping places 
could be found everywhere, with good water, perfect shel- 
ter, and for the camp fires, fuel without end. In the Black 
Hills one forgets that he is there to hunt for game, and is 
likely to put in the time climbing the steep rugged peaks to 
enjoy the grand scenery, or wandering through the pine and 
spruce forests, or skirting the splendid open parks and glades 
that are so numerous. 



210 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

After the year 1888 game was too scarce in our old 
hunting grounds in Nebraska to make it at all enticing to 
those fond of the sport, and the Black Hills country was 
the nearest place where large game could be found in any 
great quantity. I believe, if my memory has not failed me, 
that I made five excursions to the Black Hills during the 
nineties, four in the fall of the year for hunting, and one 
in the summer for camping and trout fishing. It is not the 
intention to give in this story a full account of these hunting 
trips, but to tell of four dififerent times, when game was 
killed by lying in wait tor it to approach near enough for 
a shot. 

I was hunting with Sam Coe — this was on my first 
hunting trip to the Hills — had been having fairly good luck, 
for although I had missed several shots, I had brought down 
two deer at a shot for each, a black tail and a white tail doe. 
Sam had done much better, for he was a better shot and a 
much better hunter than I, and besides he was used to hunt- 
ing in the timber, but I was not. However, it is probable 
that I was enjoying the sport as much if not more than he. 

We struck out from camp as soon as it was fairly light, 
my course taking me almost directly west, through rather 
thick timber and brush at first, then for a mile or so through 
open timber with occasional thickets where deer would likely 
be in hiding, and where two or three were routed out of their 
beds, but without giving any chance for a shot. The coun- 
try was beautiful, not rough excepting in a few places, tim- 
bered with the western mountain pine, with open parks and 
glades, and occasional thickets of second growth pines stand- 
ing very thick and from five or six, to twelve or fifteen feet 
high. It was the first time I had ever been fairly into the 
Hills, and I was so charmed with the scenery that I nearly 
forgot to look for game. About two miles from camp, after 
passing through a narrow strip of timber, I came out upon 
the edge of an open glade, traversed through its center by 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 211 

a shallow ravine. There were a few pine trees of quite large 
size scattered along the borders of the open ground, and 
just in front of where I was standing there was a clump of 
pines, a dozen or more growing close together near the bot- 
tom of the ravine. In general, however, the country was 
open up and down the glade both ways, so that a good view 
could be had for half a mile each way. Stopping for a few 
minutes, I looked the country over each way, but there was 
nothing in sight. Going on, I had just reached the clump 
of pines in front when, half a mile off to the south, a black 
tail buck was seen just coming into the open ground. He 
stopped and looked for an instant, and then putting his nose 
to the ground, walked along a few rods as if following a 
track. No doubt he was tracking up another deer. He was 
coming almost directly toward me, alternately sniffing at 
the ground and then loping for a few rods. I kept perfect- 
ly still, with the rifle at a ready, partly shielded from sight 
by the trees. On he came until within about twenty rods, 
when he turned slightly to the right, and began to gradually 
climb the gentle east slope of the ravine. He passed within 
sixty steps without noticing me at all, and while his head 
was down smelling at the track I fired, the ball passing 
through both shoulders. He fell after running a dozen rods. 
He was a fair sized deer, but with a poor set of horns. Had 
I been walking, instead of standing perfectly still, it is prob- 
able that he would have seen me and would not have come 
within easy gun shot. 

The next fall I took another hunt in the Hills in com- 
pany with John Hunt, Jep Hopkins and Sam Coe. We 
hunted well up in the mountains, the game being scarce 
lower down. It was a fine company to be out with — Hunt 
and Hopkins were old campaigners, both having done time 
in the federal army during the war of the Rebellion, and 
Sam. although a young man, was old in experience as a 



212 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

hunter, and knew every part of the Hills well, and knew the 
habits of the game and where to find it. 

It is a pleasure to hunt with old soldiers. They know 
how to select a camp, how to pitch a tent, how to cook, how 
to build a camp fire, and they never can be drained dry of 
good stories ; and besides they are always ready to do their 
part of the camp work. I submit with regret to the fact 
that never again can it be possible to take another such trip, 
with such companions. 

I had been having poor luck — all the others were kill- 
ing game — I was getting none. Either luck was with them 
and against me, or they were better hunters than I — the 
latter doubtless being the true reason. But if one sticks 
faithfully to his job in hunting his luck is pretty sure to turn. 
Before my luck turned I lost a deer by a very curious miss. 
I saw two black tail deer lying down within easy range, one 
of them with breast toward me, and just at the edge of a 
thick body of timber. I took careful aim and fired expect- 
ing surely to strike the deer in the center of the breast. To 
my surprise the deer sprang up at a bound and ran into the 
timber unhurt, and it was not possible to get another shot. 
On going to the place where the deer had lain, I found a 
small gray rock of the same color as the deer, imbedded in 
the ground and projecting seven or eight inches, that was 
exactly in range with my aim, and not more than six inches 
from the deer's breast. This had caught the bullet, and 
although considerably shattered and splintered it had saved 
the deer. The bullet had melted, and portions of it were 
found on the ground near the rock. 

A day or two later I got a deer by waiting for it to come 
to me. There were six or eight inches of snow on the 
ground, which had thawed some and then had frozen, form- 
ing a crust that made noisy walking. This made it neces- 
sary to go carefully, and to stop frequently to look and list- 
en. I had just come to the edge of a little park of four or 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 213 

five acres, in which there was not a tree, but which was 
surrounded by timber, some of it being quite dense. I had 
stopped perhaps five minutes to look around, and was about 
to go on again when I heard a bunch of deer approaching 
on the run. They would run for a little way, then stop and 
listen then run again. They kept coming nearer, making a 
good deal of noise in breaking through the crust. They saw 
me as soon as I saw them and stopped in the edge of the 
timber where there was no chance for a fair shot. However, 
I took my chance and missed. They scattered somewhat, 
but three or four ran through an open place in the trees, 
among them a large doe at which I fired. I did not know 
whether she was hit or not, but following the tracks soon 
found blood, and within forty rods I found her lying dead. 
I do not know how many deer there were in the herd, but 
certainly there were a dozen or more. 

A day or two later I was standing in an open place, 
looking and listening, when I heard three or four shots not 
very far away. I was in a little valley, probably twenty rods 
wide, with steep rocky ledges on either side. If these shots 
were at deer, and any of the deer came my way, it was pretty 
certain that they would pass through this valley. I there- 
fore, as quickly as possible, climbed up among the rocks on 
one side and getting ready, waited. I did not have to wait 
long before two black tail does came through the gap on the 
run, passing within seventy-five steps of where I was hid- 
den. I got one at a single shot, but missed the other. 

This was on Thanksgiving day, and our outfit was 
moving camp. We made the new camp within a mile of the 
spot where the deer was killed, and there we cooked and 
ate our Thanksgiving dinner. Our camp was in a very 
thick grove of pine timber, plenty of dry wood all around, 
a fine spring near by, an open glade close at hand that fur- 
nished grass for the horses, although they had to paw the 
snow away to get to the grass, flour and baking powder for 



214 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

the pancakes, abundance of fat fresh venison, bread, butter, 
cake and special nick-nacks put up by Mrs. Coe for Thanks- 
giving, coffee, sugar and syrup, weather frosty but not too 
cold, good, jolly, agreeable companions — what could have 
been better or more to our liking? We can all look back 
to a bright spot here and there in our lives — this is one in 
mine. 

The next day I got another deer by waiting for him. 
I first saw him about half a mile away coming toward me in 
a wide open glade that had a little stream winding along 
down its center, and willows growing along the banks of 
the stream. It was destitute of trees or brush, excepting 
the fringe of willows. Back at some distance there was 
timber, some of which had been killed by fire, the blackened 
stumps still standing. The deer came on directly towards 
me, and acting exactly like the first one described in this 
article. He was evidently following the track of another 
deer. I took position among some stumps and fallen trees, 
on the west side of the glade, thinking he would follow the 
open glade, and so come within reach. He did not do this, 
however, but turned short ofif to the west when about sixty 
rods away. However, he kept coming a little nearer, and 
when about forty rods ofif, as I judged the distance, I fired, 
but shot under. He gave two or three jumps and stopped 
perfectly still. This gave a better chance, and aiming high 
so as not to undershoot I fired, the ball going through the 
lungs. He ran some distance, at least forty rods, before he 
fell. He was a white tail of good size with a fine set of 
horns. I got one more deer during the trip, making four in 
all, three of them by waiting for them to come and be shot. 
I look back to this hunting trip with feelings of unmixed 
pleasure. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 215 

CHAPTER XXIX. 
Hunting Stories — Hunting Without a Gun. 

I cannot tell which affords the greater pleasure, hunt- 
ing with or without a gun. It has fallen to my lot to do 
quite a bit of both kinds. My hunting without a gun has 
been done either for the purpose of capturing young animals, 
or to watch the wild animals in their native haunts for the 
purpose of studying their habits. This country in the early 
days afforded ample opportunity to those disposed to hunt 
without a gun for either of the above purposes. When one 
hunts for the purpose of studying the habits of the wild ani- 
mals, if he is careful in his observations, he will be pretty 
apt to have some of his early opinions that were formed from 
reading works of travel, or even works on natural history 
completely upset, as the result of what he learns from actual 
personal observation. 

For example: Sixty years ago almost every man and 
woman who was in the habit of reading, believed that the 
prairie dogs, rattlesnakes and burrowing owls all lived 
amicably together as one family in the same burrow. Some 
people even today believe it, because perhaps, that they have 
read it in some old book, although the silly idea has been 
long since disproved by careful investigation. Many years 
ago I believed it myself, because I had r^ad it many times, 
and supposed it must be so, of course. I have found out, 
that the rattlesnakes occupy only the old deserted portions 
of the prairie dog towns — the owls occupy other deserted 
parts, and the prairie dogs live by themselves in their own 
community. After a time the prairie dogs ruin and kill out 
the grass within the limits of their villages, making it nec- 
essary to spread out in other directions. I have seen de- 
serted parts of a prairie dog town that covered hundreds of 



216 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

acres of land, and here is where the rattlesnakes are most 
likely to be found, and it is also where they den up for the 
winter. In such a place also they were found, formerly in 
great numbers when going to their dens in the fall, or when 
coming out in the spring, but they were not so numerous 
there throughout the summer. Although I have seen hun- 
dreds of prairie dog towns, I have never yet seen a rattle- 
snake nor a burrowing owl within the limits of the inhabited 
part of such a town, but many times I have found both in 
the old deserted dog towns. I have also killed a good many 
rattlesnakes in the immediate neighborhood of an inhabited 
dog town, but as stated before never within its limits. 

I have also read that a buck antelope sheds his horns 
annually exactly like a deer or elk, and also that he does not 
shed his horns at all. Of course I knew not which state- 
ment to believe until I found out from experience that neith- 
er was correct. The shedding process takes place all right 
in the spring of the year, but, unlike the process in other 
animals, the new horn grows inside the old one, and pushes 
the old shell off as explained in a previous chapter. These 
statements go to prove the value of the old adage, which 
might be paraphrased to read thus: "An ounce of exper- 
ience is worth a pound of conjecture." 

The most of my hunting without a gun has been done 
when tracing lines with a compass, or when looking the 
country over for a tract of good government land, and some- 
times also when carrying a gun when there was no need of 
killing game. 

I was tracing a section line with my compass — it was 
the last of May or the first of June — the country was all new, 
the prairie being covered with a bright green carpet of grass, 
purple here and there with blossoms of the wild pea and 
patches of spider lilies, and the air fragrant with the blos- 
soms of the wild prairie rose. My work, although import- 
ant, was light and congenial, and I was happy or glad, prob- 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 217 

ably both. Coming to the brow of a small hill that sloped 
gently to a little valley before me, I placed the tripod in 
position, adjusted the levels, reversed the instrument so as 
to get a back sight in order to correct my bearings, then 
taking a peep ahead upon the line I was tracing I noticed 
for the first time a doe antelope not more than thirty steps 
away, and directly upon the Hne I was following. Probably 
she had been lying down in the grass and did not get up until 
I had adjusted the compass. She turned her head and looked 
at me, and then instantly looked in another direction and 
began to stamp one of her fore feet. Her actions puzzled 
me, for I had never seen anything just like it before. I 
watched her probably five minutes before I could make out 
what the trouble was. Occasionally she would look toward 
me, but most of the time she seemed to be watching some 
thing beyond in the grass. Finally I saw something moving 
in the grass, in the direction she was looking, but could not 
tell what it was. Leaving the compass I approached the 
antelope, but when I had covered about half the distance 
between us, she bounded away, but did not go far before 
she stopped and turned to look. Where she had been stand- 
ing was a little fawn which could not have been more than 
half an hour old for it was not as yet fully dried off. Beyond 
in the grass in the direction the antelope had been looking, 
a skunk was at work digging for grubs. I undertook to 
drive him away, but this did not work well. However, I 
succeeded after a while in getting him to chase me, finally 
leaving him twenty or more rods away from the young an- 
telope. The old one did not go back to her fawn again while 
I was in sight, but watched from the top of a little knoll not 
far away. Evidently she feared the skunk more than she 
feared me. I have been told by old plainsmen that an ante- 
lope will kill a rattlesnake by jumping on it with its fore 
feet. I do not know whether this is true or not, but I do 
believe, judging from the actions of this antelope, that it 
would have attacked the skunk had it approached the fawn. 



^18 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

Two or three times I tried to capture young antelope 
by watching with a field glass from the top of a hill that 
commanded a good view in all directions. I had been told 
by a man who tried the plan, th'at by watching the old does 
when they visit their young, the place where the young ones 
are hidden can thus be found. The young of the deer, ante- 
lope and elk do not follow the mother at first, but lie hidden 
most of the time for several days. The young antelope lie 
out in the open prairie, partly, screened by the grass, but 
deer and elk hide their fawns in thickets of brush, or in tall 
weeds or grass. As stated I tried two or three times to find 
where the young antelope were by watching the old ones. 
I could see antelope all the time from my position, gener- 
ally in five or six different places, many of them being does, 
but I did not succeed in seeing a single one when in the act 
of visiting the young ones. It was too tedious a process, 
and after watching for two or three hours each time, I gave 
it up. It is probable that these visits to their young are 
made both late in the afternoon and early in the morning. 
In fact there is plenty of evidence that such is the case. I 
have found young antelope several times, but always when 
accidentally I came upon them as in the case related above. 

At one time in Greeley county I saw four or five deer 
feeding in a little narrow valley not more than a quarter 
of a mile away. It was early in the spring and the grass 
was just beginning to be green, the prairie having been 
burned over the previous fall. They were near a steep bank 
along which grew clumps of box elder, and masses of choke 
cherry bushes. I thought I would see how close I could 
approach without frightening them. By going around some 
distance I could walk to within a dozen rods of them, and 
still keep out of sight, and then could crawl right up to the 
edge of the steep bank. I had no difficulty in getting within 
twenty steps of them and from my position, lying flat on 
the ground, could see them plainly through the screen of 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 219 

bushes. It was curious to see how very careful and watch- 
ful they were all the time. They were all feeding, but some 
of them had their heads up in the air and were looking 
around all the time. One would put its head down, take 
three or four bites of grass and then raise its head and look 
about. All at once an old doe nearest to me gave a sort of 
whistle, or signal of alarm and away they went, turning to 
look back after they had gone about thirty rods, then again 
raising their white tails they went over the hill out of sight. 
The most striking feature of the actions of the deer, elk 
and antelope is their extreme watchfulness. They are on 
the lookout for danger all the time. 

Once when tracing a section line I came upon a herd 
of black tail deer on a hillside. There were thirteen of them 
in sight, all lying down in the sunshine — whether there were 
more than that number in the drove or not I do not know, 
as I did not disturb them. I watched them for some time, 
for it was a very interesting sight. Among them was a big 
buck with wide spreading antlers. The place where they 
were lying was well chosen for safety, because the lay of 
the land, and the direction of the wind were such that it 
would not have been easy for a hunter to approach within 
shooting distance without being discovered. 

It is remarkable how sagacious both the elk and black 
tail deer are in selecting a safe place to lie down to rest. 
They do not seek to hide themselves in dense cover as do 
white tail deer, but they lie out in the open where the sur- 
roundings are such that they can either see or smell an 
approaching enemy; especially is this true of the elk, and 
to quite an extent of black tail deer. If the wind changes 
a herd of elk will immediately begin to sniff the air, and will 
at once change their position for a safer one. This I saw 
a herd of elk do at one time in southern Holt county. The 
instant the wind shifted, up went their noses into the air, 
and thev at once began to move off. 



220 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

It is easy to get a chance to watch elk and black tail 
deer while they are lying down, on account of their habit 
of lying in the open, but the opposite is true of white tail 
deer because of their habit of hiding. It is not often one 
can get a good view of a white tail deer, excepting when 
they are feeding or traveling. 

The coyote is often called in books the barking wolf, 
because its bark resembles somewhat the barking of a small 
dog. One time when making hay, I laid aside the pitchfork 
and went to a nearby spring for a drink of cold water. Hav- 
ing satisfied my thirst, I lay down for a little while under 
a bunch of tall sunflowers that afforded some shade from 
the hot August sun. While lying in the shade, well screened 
from sight, I saw a coyote coming toward me, and it proved 
to be the best chance ever offered me to watch one unob- 
served. When first seen he was about eighty rods away, but 
he kept gradually coming nearer until finally he passed 
within ten rods of where I was lying without noticing me 
at all. A coyote is as sharp of sight as any animal that I 
know of, not even excepting the antelope, but as I was pretty 
well hidden and scarcely moved at all, he did not see me. 
His actions in every respect were like those of a dog. When 
not more than a dozen rods away he sat down upon his 
haunches, and pointing his nose up toward the sky gave a 
series of coyote yip, yip, yips, which is familiar to almost 
all the rural inhabitants of Nebraska. 

The raccoon of Nebraska is an animal found almost 
exclusively along the streams where there is more or less 
timber. I have come across them several times, either when 
hunting or when tracing lines, and always they were on or 
near the bank of a stream where there was more or less 
timber. Once I saw one in the bottom of a little creek where 
there were several springs coming out from under a bank 
that was thickly covered with trees and brush. I lay dov^n 
on top of the bank twenty or thirty feet above him and where 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 221 

it was plain to see what he was about, and watched him for 
some time. He was digging in the black mud just inside 
and at the border of the little rivulets made by the springs, 
and I think was eating the roots of some kind of water 
plant. At any rate he was making his dinner off something 
he found in the mud. After watching him for a time I 
threw down some little pieces of earth, which struck in the 
water near him. He stopped and looked about for half a 
minute then went on with his work again. Finally I threw 
down a larger piece, which startled him so much that he 
ran into the brush out of sight. 

The red fox has always been rare here but in the earl\ 
days one was sometimes seen, and there may still be a few 
left in the wooded belts bordering the Missouri and Niobra- 
ra rivers, for it is a hard animal to exterminate. I have 
only seen one live one west of the Missouri river, and that 
was in the Black Hills. I was trailing a deer through a 
tract of country where there was a good deal of fallen tim- 
ber. The track was winding about in a very crooked way, 
indicating that the deer was looking for a good place to lie 
down, consequently I was going very slowly, keeping a sharp 
lookout ahead. All at once I saw a red fox, standing still, 
not more than a dozen rods ahead, and looking at me. I 
put the rifle to my shoulder — it was already cocked — and 
drew a bead at his head, and then put down the gun — I was 
hunting deer, not foxes. I watched him a moment and then 
took the track again which led directly toward the fox. As 
I started toward him he trotted on again, but getting a little 
way ahead stopped and waited, this time turning broadside 
and looking back. Again I took aim, and again neglected 
to shoot. I do not remember how many times he turned to 
look at me but certainly three or four. He was very tame, 
and very impudent. I know of only two animals that have 
as much impudence as a red fox, they are the weasel and 
the chicaree or red squirrel. The fox soon turned off to 



323 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

the right, and within two hundred steps I found the deer, 
but only saw him bounding away among the trees, givmg 
no chance to shoot. Then I wished I had saved the fox skin. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 223 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Hunting Stories— My Last Big Hunt in Wheeler and Gar- 
field Counties. 

In the summer of 1868 antelope were often seen on the 
tableland between Maple and Pebble creeks in Dodge coun- 
ty, and sometimes even they were found between Maple 
creek and the Platte river within a dozen miles of Fremont. 
That summer I shot two antelope north of Maple creek and 
not more than four miles south of the place where Scrib- 
ner now stands. In the winter of 1868 quite a good many 
white tail deer lived along the Platte river and Maple creek 
in Dodge county, hiding through the day time in the weedy 
ravines that either make south to the Platte or north to 
Maple creek. Two or three times I went with other men 
after them, and every time we saw from two or three up 
to half a dozen, but they were wild and cautious, and we 
never even got a shot. 

In May 1869 I came with S. S. King to what is now 
Antelope county looking for land. We started from Pebble 
creek within a mile of where Scribner now is ; following the 
creek for ten or twelve miles, thence going west over the 
divide to Maple creek, striking it in the northeastern part 
of Colfax county, thence following a branch of Maple creek 
well up into Stanton county, thence northwest over the divide 
and down into the Elkhorn valley, coming to the Elkhorn 
river just below the mouth of Union creek. The country 
was unsettled, and we saw white tail deer very often, and 
antelope everywhere. We camped on Cedar creek in the 
southern part of Oakdale township about a week, exploring 
the country and running lines. We went all over Cedar 
township, and all of Oakdale and Burnett townships south 
of the Elkhorn, and the north tier of sections in Grant town- 



224 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

ship. We saw white tail deer ahnost every day — they were 
found all along the timbered streams and weedy ravines, and 
often were seen traveling from one patch of timber or brush 
to another. Antelope were never out of sight when we were 
on high land where a distant view could be had. There were 
numerous signs of elk in several places, but not very fresh. 
They had been here not very long before in good big herds. 

From the time of the first settlement of Antelope coun- 
ty in the early fall of 1868 up to the month of April 1873, 
white tail deer and antelope were very numerous. There 
were also frequent herds of elk, and in the rough parts of 
the county not a few black tail deer. The April storm of 
1873 — the most destructive storm ever known since the set- 
tlement of Nebraska began — killed off thousands of the wild 
animals. They were never as numerous afterward. When 
the storm came on, I was at work in Sherman county exam- 
ining and appraising land for the B. & M. railroad com- 
pany. After the storm was over so I could get to work 
again, I found one elk, and scores of antelope and white tail 
deer that were killed by the storm. There were also many 
birds killed, especially robins, larks, blackbirds and prairie 
chickens. I do not believe that wild animals and birds, were 
ever so plentiful again in Nebraska after that storm as they 
were before. However, they multiplied to quite an extent, 
so that by the middle of the seventies there were a great 
many elk and deer of both kinds in the counties west and 
southwest of Antelope county, but antelope gradually became 
more scarce, apparently having forsaken this country as a 
breeding ground. 

The winter of 1880 was a hard one on the wild animals. 
It began about the middle of October, snow-storm succeed- 
ing snow-storm throughout the winter months, and leaving 
large drifts well into May. That winter nearly used up 
what were left of the deer. There were almost none left in 
Antelope county and very few farther west. I made three 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 225 

hunting trips to western Wheeler and eastern Garfield coun- 
ties in the early eighties with poor success; once getting 
nothing at all, and only three white tail deer each of the other 
two times, with not a sign of elk in a country where a few 
years before they were so numerous. 

As I look back over the past forty-eight years, there is 
nothing else that brings such a feeling of regret— even more 
than regret — a feeling akin to sadness, as the total disap- 
pearance of the elk, the antelope and the deer, and the thin- 
ning out almost to extinction of the prairie chickens, the 
plover, the curlew and the wild geese. 

In the fall of 1878 Mr. D. E. Beckwith and myself had 
made arrangements to kill a load of game, if we could, for 
the Columbus market, and had made a preliminary scouting 
trip, as told in a previous chapter, for the purpose of locat- 
ing a good place for the coming hunt. My youngest son, 
DeWitt C. Leach, commonly known as Deede Leach, and 
Mr. Beckwith's second son, Roy, were to go with us. Deede 
and Roy were known as the twins, since as it happened, they 
were both born on the same day. They were great chums, 
and, if permitted, were always together. It was to be their 
first regular hunting trip, and judging from remarks they 
still are in the habit of making, it has so far been the most 
important event of their lives. When we were about ready 
to start Mr. Beckwith sent word that owing to sickness in 
his family, he would have to delay starting, but for us to 
go on, and he and Roy would join us as soon as his folks 
were better. 

It was well along in November when the start was made 
but the weather was mild, and there had been but very Httle 
snow. We took along our little tepee, made of an old rag 
carpet for a tent, plenty of oats and a pair of blankets for the 
horses, and provisions for ourselves for a two weeks' trip. 
Of course we expected to be well suppHed with venison after 



226 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

two or three days. We made camp the second night at the 
Tumbledumps in the western part of Wheeler county, and 
here we expected to find game. 

My rifle on this occasion was a Sharps carbine which 
has been mentioned often heretofore, while Deede carried 
a Smith and Wesson rifle using a 32-short cartridge. It 
was an accurate, spiteful little gun, but was short range. 

While in camp at the Tumbledumps we sighted a herd 
of elk and went after them, with the result that after follow- 
ing them all day and getting two or three shots, all of which 
were misses, we drove them out of that part of the country. 
Going back to camp and targeting my rifle I found the front 
sight was out of place, and that this had caused the bad 
shooting. Leaving the elk, with the hope of finding them 
again on our way back, we went on west into the big rough 
sand hills between the head of Beaver creek and the Cedar 
river, where we were to make our permanent hunting camp. 
When moving camp Deede drove the team while I went 
ahead to act as pilot and to keep a sharp lookout for game, 
as we were likely to come onto black tail deer at any time 
after reaching the rough hills. We did find game even 
sooner than we expected. I kept about twenty rods ahead 
of the team, traveling slowly and keeping a sharp lookout 
ahead, and on rising a hill being very careful to only show 
my head until the country had been well looked over. On 
coming to the top of a ridge I saw two black tail does, lying 
down beyond a narrow valley and near the top of the next 
ridge. Motioning for the team to stop, I got down out of 
sight and waited for Deede to come up. It was safe to leave 
the team by setting the brake, and fastening the lines. We 
crawled as near as possible and then made ready to shoot. 
The deer had seen us and were standing up looking our way, 
but evidently could not make out what we were. At the 
count of three we fired, my deer falling after a jump or two, 
but the distance was too great for the little gun, and the shot 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 227 

fell short. The second deer bounded away, but I felt sure 
it would soon stop for its mate, and I waited, as the dis- 
tance was too far to risk a running shot. It did stop, and 
turned broadside to look back. Aiming at the very upper 
tip of the shoulders I fired and the deer fell, but recovering 
it hobbled over the ridge out of sight. It was well that the 
aim was high, for the ball fell so that it broke both fore legs 
above the knees. Deede soon found and gave it a final shot 
while I dressed the first deer. These deer were both young, 
probably a year old the previous spring, and were in fine 
condition. Bringing up the team we made camp here for 
the remainder of the day and the following night. 

After taking care of the team and eating dinner we 
went northwest into the hills looking for a place for a per- 
manent camp. We had gone probably two miles and were 
traveling across a sand hill valley that was perhaps forty 
rods wide, bounded by ridges on either side, when we saw 
two white tail deer coming down the valley and not more 
than a quarter of a mile away. The grass was high afford- 
ing a good screen and dropping on hands and knees we made 
for a little knoll that was four or five feet high behind which 
we lay and waited for the deer. It was always understood 
that when two were hunting together the one on the right 
should shoot at the right hand deer, and the one on the left 
should take the left hand one at the count of three. When 
the count was made the two deer were nearly opposite each 
other, the right hand one having its head down feeding. 
We both fired, my shot going through the shoulders and 
lungs of the deer aimed at, and Deede's shot breaking the 
neck of his deer, and going on it passed through the heart 
of the second deer, lodging in the skin on the further side 
of the body. If my gun had missed fire, Deede's shot would 
have killed both deer. These two deer were both white tail 
does, one large, and the other a yearling. 



228 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

We found a fine place to camp in an old blowout com- 
pletely grassed over, and where in previous years the wind 
had so shaped the sand hills when in a drifting condition as 
to form a perfect shelter from the wind. Nearby was a 
pond of water, and a dead cottonwood tree, and plenty of 
red roots for fuel. 

The next day we moved to our new camping ground, 
brought in the game, pitched the tent, hauled up a wagon 
box full of red roots, and planted a pole with a grain sack 
for a signal on a high sand hill about a quarter of a mile 
' from camp, for our httle tepee was completely hidden from 
sight in the old blowout. 

The next day we tried again for the elk, and we found 
them all right, but all the good it did us was the gaining 
of a little new experience. They were on a great flat that 
was covered with big grass. The only way to get near them 
was to crawl on hands and knees for nearly or quite half 
a mile. The wind, if there was any, was baffling. Time 
and again I tried it by gathering a handful of fuzzy grass 
seeds, letting them sift through the fingers and watch to see 
which way they drifted. What wind there was seemed to 
come from the southeast. The elk were about a mile east 
of us. We therefore worked around further north and ap- 
proached from the northwest. When within a long distance 
shot, their noses suddenly went up in the air — they bunched 
together, and then quickly started off on a fast gallop. They 
had not seen us, but rising to our feet we found that the 
wind had changed to the northwest and they had taken our 
scent. 

It was night when we got to camp, and it was turning 
cold. However we did not mind the cold, our tepee was 
warm, the horses were well blanketed, we had plenty of 
fuel, and the shelter was excellent. We gave up the elk for 
good, and the next day, although it was cold and somewhat 



EARLY DAY STORIES. . 229 

stormy, we hunted to the west in the rough hills for black 
tail deer. We had eaten luncheon and were working slowly 
into the northwest wind when we came in sight of a big 
drove of black tail deer. I do not know how many there 
were, as we did not count them, but there must have been 
eighteen or twenty. They were at rest in a patch of rough, 
but not very high sand hills, som.e of them standing up, but 
most of them lying down, and where it was easy to get a 
good, but not a close shot. Again we fired at the count, and 
again Deede's rifle fell short, while mine brought down a 
buck after it had made a few jumps. They seemed confused, 
and it appeared as if they could not tell from which way 
the sound came. They bunched and stood still and looked 
for an instant while I got in another shot which brought 
down another buck. However he did not fall at once but 
ran perhaps a dozen rods before falling, the others following 
him. This brought them somewhat nearer than at first, and 
as they were passing I got a doe, a very fine large one at 
another shot. I sent the fourth shot after the bunch but 
missed. It was late when we got to camp, and we came 
near missing it, as darkness began to fall when we were a 
mile away, and it was snowing. This made seven deer that 
we had gotten very easily, which in part made up for our 
bad luck with the elk. 

The next day Mr. Beckwith and Roy came, having 
located the camp from the signal on the hill. It took them 
some little time however to find the tent, it being so com- 
pletely hidden by the nearby hills. The two boys from this 
time on hunted in company, and each killed his deer, while 
Dan and I hunted separately. We remained at this camp 
until we had killen seven more deer, making fourteen in all, 
when we pulled out for home. 

Our tepee was too small for all to sleep in comfortably, 
and the boys with the spade and ax made a dugout in the 
side of a steep little hill, covering the front with a blanket. 



230 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

and having a chimney and fire place in the back end. They 
killed one of the biggest, fattest badgers that I ever saw, 
and warmed and lighted the dugout with a fire of red roots 
and the fat of the badger, a piece of which would be thrown 
into the fire as often as needed. The weather became very 
cold — the mercury going down to twenty-two minus by our 
thermometer at home ; but we were entirely comfortable, and 
were living high all the time. 

On our way back we camped again at the Tumble- 
dumps, and just as we were going into camp here came our 
herd of elk again in plain sight about a mile to the south. 
Dan and I went after them while the boys fixed the camp 
and took care of the horses. It was not difficult to get near 
enough for a shot for the reason that they were among some 
low sand knolls, behind which we could crawl to within easy 
distance. Dan did the counting because he had lost his hear- 
ing in the army. At the word three I fired and got a cow 
elk — Dan had in a bad cartridge and his gun snapped. He 
has never recovered from the disappointing eflfects of that 
untoward incident. However fourteen deer and one elk — 
it was enough. 

It was our farewell hunt for elk in Nebraska. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 331 

CHAPTER XXXI. 
Looking Backward. 

No. 1. 

It is a truth that "Truth is stranger than fiction." I 
am led to this conclusion by looking backward less than two 
and a half generations. Most of the great inventions that 
have placed the progressive people of the world away ahead 
of anything thought of, or dreamed of three generations 
ago, are the results of investigation and research of the last 
eighty years, and chiefly also of the last forty years. Fric- 
tion matches were invented in 1829, and the machinery for 
making them was patented in 1842, but they did not come 
into general use until about the year 1846, or later. The 
knowledge of photography as it now exists was acquired 
in 1835, but it was not used extensively until about fifteen 
years later. The first practical mowing machine was invent- 
ed in 1833, but it was twenty years before mowing machines 
and reapers came into general use. The first sewing machine 
that was practical and successful was made in 1846. The 
first ocean steamship to carry passengers and freight, crossed 
the Atlantic in 1838. The first practical use of the tele- 
graph was in 1844, when the line from Baltimore to Wash- 
ington was opened for messages on May 27 of that year. 

Let us go back to the year 1840, just seventy-six years 
from the present time. Here is an inventory of some of 
the things that people did not have seventy-six years ago, 
although the list is by no means complete. There are many 
things in general use now not included in the annexed list, 
that people never had heard of seventy-six years ago. Sev- 
enty-six years ago there were no friction matches, sewing 
machines, washing machines, mowing machines, reapers, 



232 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

threshing machines, gang plows, riding plows, modern style 
harrows, disk harrows, horse rakes, horse cultivators, kero- 
sene oil, gasoline, no power machines of any kind on the 
farm, no electrical appliances of any kind, no telegraphs, 
telephones, phonographs nor moving pictures, no bicycles, 
automobiles, sleeping nor dining cars, no breech loading 
guns nor fixed ammunition, no photographs, and in general 
no knowledge of photography, no refined sugar excepting 
what was known as loaf sugar, no evaporated fruits, no 
canned fruits, vegetables, meats or fish, no packing houses, 
no cured meat products excepting those cured on the farm, 
no creameries, no incubators, no cold storage plants. In the 
common school rooms no blackboards, no uniformity of text 
books, no systematic arrangement of classes, and in most 
states no county superintendents. No anesthetics for use in 
surgery, and no knowledge of the germ theory of diseases. 
No greenbacks nor national currency. No monopolies, no 
great trusts nor combinations to control capital or products. 

How did people live? That is just what this article is 
for — to tell how. Let us see — we go back seventy-six years, 
at which time I was six years old. This story will be leaves 
torn from my book of experience. 

In this narrative many things well remembered will be 
passed over, those only being chosen that have left the 
deepest impressions on the tablet of the memory, or that 
best illustrate the manner of life of the people of those 
times. 

My father had an old flint lock musket, of the pattern 
used by the Americans in the war of 1812, which he seemed 
to think a great deal of, probably because it was like the one 
he had used while serving in the army. It was my delight 
to play with the gun, and in this my father indulged me, 
allowing me to pull back the hammer, and watch the sparks 
as the flint fastened in the hammer came in contact with 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 233 

the steel pan of the lock. Most of the guns in use at that 
time were of the flint lock pattern. All the guns in use 
were muzzle loaders, and while percussion guns, that is those 
fired with a percussion cap or percussion pill were coming 
into use, the flint locks were preferred by many because of 
the extra cost of percussion primers. The powder was car- 
ried in a horn, and the bullets or shot in a pouch, none of 
the ammunition being fixed. The bullets both for rifles 
and muskets were round — elongated bullets never having 
been thought of at that time. The rifles were finely sighted 
and were accurate shooters, but were of short range. When 
I was sixteen years old I owned my first gun. It was a 
single barrel shotgun, with a long barrel, full curly maple 
stock, and pill lock. The gun was loaded by pouring the 
powder into the muzzle from a small measure, called a 
charger, on top of the powder was placed a wad of tow 
firmly rammed down with the ramrod, next a charge of 
loose shot, also measured, and lastly another wad of tow 
was pressed down with the ramrod to hold the shot in 
place. The hammer had a long point of steel, not unlike 
the bill of a woodpecker, that when the trigger was pulled, 
struck into a little hollow at the base of the barrel contain- 
ing the primer. The primer was a little pill of percussion 
about the size of a radish seed, and was held in its place by a 
slight covering of tallow, which also protected it from damp- 
ness. I have used many shotguns since, but never handled 
a better one, and seldom one as good, but, of course, it was 
slow work reloading, and seldom gave a chance for more 
than one shot, and besides the primer was liable to get damp 
or fall out and therefore the gun frequently missed fire. But 
this was all the better for the game and gave it a chance for 
life that is now denied it with our quick firing, long range 
guns. 

The dwelling houses and school houses were all warmed 
by the open fire-place. I never saw a stove until I was ten 



234 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

years old. In the west end of our old log school house was 
a fire place that took up about a third of the end of the 
building. The fire-place and hearth were of stone, the hearth 
being of large flat stones, and the chimney built of small, 
split oak sticks, heavily plastered on the inside with clay to 
protect the wood from taking fire. The old school house 
was very comfortable and the great open fire, built of logs 
four feet long and some of them a foot in diameter was 
very cheerful and pleasant. When the new red school 
house was built, a box stove was put in for heating and we 
did not like it, at least for a time, nearly as well as the old 
fire-place. It is hard to get used to new things — I am not 
sure but I would still keep the old fire-place if fuel was as 
plenty and easy to get as it was then. 

I remember well what branches were taught — reading, 
spelling, writing, arithmetic, geography, grammar, and 
United States History. The history was taught chiefly as a 
reading lesson, sometimes the class being questioned as to 
what the lesson contained, but not always. The writing 
books were made at home of cap paper, the copies being writ- 
ten by the teacher, and as a rule whenever a change was 
made in teachers there was a change in the style of penman- 
ship. The pens were made of goose quills and required 
mending, or "sharpening", as it was called, at the beginning 
of every writing lesson. Most of the teachers were poorly 
qualified and closely followed the text books in hearing 
recitations. I remember one teacher who required us to 
commit to memory the names of all the counties in all the 
states, and to give the names of all the rivers from Maine to 
Louisiana, telling where they took their rise, in what direc- 
tion they flowed and where they emptied. She did this not- 
withstanding the fact that in a foot note it stated that thics 
part could be omitted if the teacher thought best. Every 
rule in grammar and in arithmetic had to be committed to 
memory, and all of the rules for spelling had to be studied 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 235 

and the most important ones learned by heart. I have won- 
dered if the practice of memorizing so extensively practiced 
was not really one of the best things required in the schools 
of that day. The spelling lessons were required to be stud- 
ied thoroughly, and every two weeks, on Saturday afternoon 
(as there was school every other Saturday) there was a 
spelling match, and every two weeks through the winter 
there was an evening spelling school, in which the pupils 
of other districts took part. These spelling matches were 
the life of the schools every winter. The school children of 
those days were better in spelling than those of the present 
day — the only thing in which they excelled — in all other 
respects our modern schools are away in advance of those 
of the olden time. 

The schools were supported by a very small public 
school fund furnished by the state and by an assessment 
made upon the patrons of the school in proportion to the 
number of days their children attended. This method was 
an extremely bad one, as many poor people with large fam- 
ilies kept their children at home because they were not able 
to pay the "rate bill," and men of property who had no chil- 
dren were exempt from school tax. Finally when a law 
was enacted allowing each school district at the annual 
meeting to vote a tax on all the property of the district to 
support a free school, the thing was fought at every annual 
metting by many of the voters of the district, and especially 
by those having large property interests with small families 
or no family at all. Such men are not all dead yet — we 
have plenty of people who cannot with an unbiased mind 
look into any question that affects the public good, because 
in some way it involves their own pocketbook. 

As stated the houses were all warmed by the open fire 
place, and in these fire places all the cooking was done. An 
iron crane was fastened in one side of the fire place, from 



236 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

which were suspended by iron hooks, the pots and kettles 
containing the things to be boiled. This crane could be 
swung out away from the fire, the vessel suspended, and 
then swung back again over the fire. Baking of wheat 
bread, pies and cakes was mostly done in a tin reflector called 
a ''baker." This was open faced at one side with a shelf 
in the center, this open side being placed to the fire, the 
baking was done by the bright tin reflecting, both from 
above and below, the rays of heat, thus throwing them upon 
the bread. Great loaves of corn bread, or of corn meal 
and rye flour mixed, were baked in a large iron kettle with 
straight or slightly flaring sides, having a cast iron cover 
with a phlange to hold the coals. This was placed on the 
stone hearth, coals put underneath and on top, and allowed 
to remain ten or twelve hours, cooking slowly with very little 
fire. Some farmers had an oven out of doors built of 
brick, or of brick and stone, with an iron door, and a little 
chimney. At baking time a fire was built in this, and when 
sufficiently heated the fire was all raked out, the bread 
pushed in with a flat shovel, the door and chimney closed 
and the baking left to itself until done. 

Every farmer kept sheep — there were no exceptions, 
and a part of the wool was worked up at home, and many 
raised flax for the fibre, prepared it for spinning, and thus 
the materials were at hand for home made clothing. Every 
family had its large spinning wheel for wool, and many had 
the smaller one for flax. 

Let us see — what was there in my mother's house that 
we do not find in the houses of today ? There was the little 
wheel, worked by foot power similar to a sewing machine 
of today, with its distafif, its spindle and its pHers, on which 
she spun the linen thread to be woven into fine linen cloth 
for the table and other uses, and also the coarser linen thread 
from the tow or coarser fibre which would later be made 



EARLY DAY STORIES. v37 

into tow cloth for summer pants for the boys ; and there was 
the big wheel for spinning woolen yarn for socks, stockings 
and mittens, and for cloth for winter wear both for the boys 
and for the girls ; and there was the quill wheel, the reel 
and the swifts and the warping bars and the cards and the 
loom with its reeds, its shuttles and its bobbins; and out in 
the woodshed, probably, would be found the break, the 
swingle, and the hatchels of different sizes for separating 
the flax fibre from the woody part. Every family manufac- 
tured at least a part of the cloth for clothing both for the 
old and young members of the family and all the woolen 
yarn for stockings and mittens. There was not a loom in 
every family, but there were generally two or three in ev- 
ery neighborhood. Some of the wool raised was sold on the 
market, but much of it was worked up at home. There were 
carding machines and fulling mills run by water power in 
many places, where the wool was cleansed and carded into 
rolls and sent back to the owner to be spun and woven and 
afterward returned to the niill to be colored, fulled, dressed, 
pressed and finished off, ready to be cut and made into gar- 
ments. 

The tools on the farm were a cast iron plow with wood 
handles and beam, a harrow shaped like a letter V with a 
cross bar connecting the sides to keep it from spreading, a 
cradle for cutting grain, scythes, axes, spades, mattocks, 
hand rakes and pitchforks with two tines only. All the ha^ 
and grain was cut and handled by hand, and most of it was 
put into barns instead of being stacked in the field. As far 
back as my memory goes all the corn was hoed by hand, 
but after a few years a double shovel plow was invented, to 
be worked with one horse, men with hoes following it. The 
first threshing machine I ever saw was when I was about 
twelve years old. It was a wonder to us then, and it would 
be a wonder now. There was no separator — the grain, chaff 
and straw all coming out at one place, it keeping one man 



238 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

busy to rake away the straw from the grain, another with 
rake and shovel to remove the grain from before the ma- 
chine, so as to keep the space in front clear. Every half 
hour or so the machine would stop, to give the men a 
chance to "cave up," as it was called — that is, to shovel 
the grain out of the way to one side. After the threshing 
was over the grain was run through a fanning mill to sep- 
arate it from the chaff. Some of the threshing was done in 
the barn in the winter time with flails, but some was thresh- 
ed by spreading it out on the big barn floor, turning in the 
horses and colts loose, and keeping them going around in a 
circle until the work was done. 

Lumber was cheap. Good pine lumber was worth at 
the saw mills $4.00 per thousand, while timbers for the 
frame and stone for the foundation could be had without 
cost except the labor of getting it out. Almost every farmer 
had a good big barn, large enough for his hay and grain, 
and open sheds for his cattle and sheep. 

Money was scarce, and much of the farm produce could 
not be sold for cash, but could generally be bartered at the 
stores, or exchanges could be made with other farmers for 
something needed. Some things would always sell for cash, 
and among these were cranberries, grass and clover seed, 
hides and pelts, furs, beeswax and potash. 

Wages were low — when I got old enough to do a man's 
work on the farm I was paid $10.00 per month, and at 
teaching school I received $12.00 per month and board, 
boarding with each family according to the number of 
children sent by them to school. 

Were the people happy then ? Just as happy as now — 
there were not so many unnecessary things lying around in 
sight as now, therefore they did not want as much as people 
want nowadays. 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 239 

CHAPTER XXXII. 
Looking Backward. 

No. 2. 

Someone may possibly ask this question : "As you had 
no matches in those days, what did you do when the fire 
went out?" That is easy. In the first place the fire did not 
often go out, in the summer, and never in the winter. In 
the winter time there was always a good fire in the big, old 
fire place through the day, and when bed-time came a lot of 
live coals were piled up against the backlog, a blazing brand 
of hardwood placed on top of the coals, and the whole cov- 
ered up with ashes. In the morning the ashes were raked 
off, the red hot coals opened out, the brand having all burned 
to a coal by that time, more wood was piled on, the finest 
and dryest being placed next to the coals, and in ten min- 
utes there was a roaring big fire in the fire place, warmmg 
and lighting up the whole room, and breakfast was under 
way. Oh ! it makes me homesick even now when I think of 
and write about these things. What comfort we children 
used to take sitting around the old fire-place winter eve- 
nings ! We used to take our spelling books home and study 
the spelling lesson for the next day, and the probable les- 
sons for the next spelling school, by the light of the fire; 
every now and then throwing on a piece of hickory bark 
which would light up the whole room for a few minutes. 
Then when there was company of an evening we would get 
out the hickory nuts, the black walnuts, the beechnuts, the 
hazel nuts, and the butternuts for a feast, someone telling a 
story or singing a song while the others were cracking the 
nuts and getting them ready to be eaten. And then after- 
ward we would gather in a semicircle around the big fire- 



240 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

place and play ''Button, button, who's got the button ?" Or. 
if there was an old soldier present — and there were old sol- 
diers then same as now, only they were soldiers of the war 
of 1812, he would perhaps be prevailed upon to tell a story of 
the war, or my mother might tell how her father was taken 
prisoner at the battle of Long Island during the war of the 
Revolution — how he was kept on board a prison ship for 
six weeks in New York harbor, and finally when exchanged, 
was made by his British captors to pass directly by a man 
who was all broken out with small pox. This man was sit- 
ting right by the gangway where all the prisoners as they 
came up from the hold of the ship, had to pass within a foot 
or so of him. How many of them took the disease it is not 
known, but my grandfather caught it and came near dying 
after he returned home. Stories of the Revolutionary war 
and of the war of 1812 were very popular in those days. 
The old hatred against Great Britain on account of the war 
of the Revolution and of 1812 had not then died out to any 
great extent and the children were taught by their fathers, 
especially if the fathers were old soldiers, to hate the ''red 
coats" as the British soldiers were called. 

But to come back to the subject. Sometimes in sum- 
mer the fire went out, in spite of pains taken to keep it alive, 
and then fire had to be borrowed from a neighbor. Neigh- 
bors were plenty and some of them were near. As I re- 
member it, there were eleven families living within a mile 
of my mother's, when I was ten years old. As I was the 
oldest of the younger boys, it generally fell to my lot to 
go for fire whenever it went out. It never happened, in so 
far as I remember, that more than one fire in the neighbor- 
hood went out at the same time — so there was no difficulty 
in borrowing fire. But supposing a family lived two or 
three miles from the nearest neighbor, what would be done 
in that case? They would take great care that the fire 
should not go out. If it did go out they would have a way 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 241 

to make fire. There were several ways to do this. In those 
days many men who smoked carried in the vest pocket a 
"burning glass" as it was then called — that is, a double con- 
vex lens, about an inch and a half in diameter. The pipe 
would be filled with tobacco and the lens held in such a 
way as to focus the sun's rays upon the tobacco in the pipe, 
and after two or three puffs the tobacco would take fire and 
the pipe would be lighted. With the burning glass a fire 
could be quickly kindled by bringing the sun's rays to a 
focus upon some dry, rotten wood or some very fine shav- 
ings. Of course this could only be done when the sun was 
shining brightly. 

Many people kept a tinder box, and a flint and steel. I 
carried these implements in my pockets as play things when 
I was a boy. The steel was an oval steel ring perhaps three 
eights of an inch thick that would slip easily over two or 
three fingers of the right hand — the tinder was linen cloth 
burned or charred until it was brown, and was carried in a 
tin box called a tinder box — the flint was any common flint 
stone with a sharp edge. When necessary to make a fire, 
the tinder box was placed on the hearth or on the ground, 
with the cover off so as to expose the tinder, the flint was 
held over it with the left hand in such a way that when struck 
by the steel the sparks would fall upon the tinder thus set- 
ting it on fire. A fire could then be quickly kindled with the 
aid of dry, rotten wood or of tow and fine shavings. I be- 
lieve I thought more of my flint, steel and tinder box, than 
boys of today do of their bat and ball, or of their marbles. 

I have also kifidled a fire several times with a pistol, 
gunpowder and tow. This was done by loading the pistol 
with a very small charge of powder — only a pinch in fact, 
and placing loosely on top of the powder a large wad of 
very dry tow that had been first sprinkled all through lightly 
with gunpowder, and then firing the wad into a bunch of 
fine shavings. The gunpowder would ignite the tow and 



242 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

the tow would set the shavings afire. We never used to 
worry about the fire going out — it was easily remedied if it 
did. It was not inconvenient in those days to do without 
matches, because we knew nothing about them. 

For lighting the houses, the firelight from the big fire- 
place, and tallow candles, either those known as "tallow dips" 
or those cast in candle moulds, were the only lights used. 
"Tallow dips" were made by dipping the cotton wick into 
melted tallow, and repeating the operation until sufficient 
tallow adhered to form a candle. I said those just named 
were the only lights used, and in general this was true, but 
lamps that burned either whale oil, or sunflower seed oil 
were used to some extent by those who could afford it. 
Later burning fluids of different kinds came into use, but 
candles continued to be the main stay until kerosene was 
introduced. 

Among the amazing changes that have taken place in 
the last seventy-six years are the laws and regulations re- 
lating to our postal facilities. Going back seventy-six years 
we find that the postal laws enacted by congress in 1816 were 
still in force. Under these laws, to send a letter weighing 
a half ounce 30 miles or less cost 6^4 cents, over 30 miles 
and under 80 it cost 10 cents, over 80 miles and under 150 
it cost 12y2 cents, over 150 miles and under 400 it cost 18^ 
cents, and over 400 miles 25 cents. In the year 1845 con- 
gress changed the postal laws as follows: For a letter 
weighing a half ounce 300 miles or under, 5 cents, over 300 
miles 10 cents. There were no postage stamps or envelopes. 
Letters were marked "paid" or "due" as the case might be, 
as under the laws then existing the postage could be prepaid 
or collected at the end of the route. Postage stamps and 
envelopes did not come into use until the year 1852. Letter 
paper was made in double sheets, on three pages of which 
the letter could be written, the fourth p: f;e being left blank, 
^nd it was then so folded that a part of the blank page 



EARLY DAY STORIES. 243 

formed the outside of the letter which was used for the 
address. The letter was sealed either with sealing wax or 
by applying some kind of paste. Papers and magazines 
were also sent through the mails, but there were no regula- 
tions for sending seeds, cuttings, merchandise, etc., as at 
present. In those early days daily newspapers were rare, 
and were seldom taken by any except residents of the cities. 
Some of our neighbors took a weekly newspaper, but more 
of them took no paper at all. However, there was one very 
commendable plan that was carried out, and that supplied 
in part the lack of newspapers. Under our laws then exist- 
ing we had in each township a town library and a town- 
ship librarian, and in each school district, a district librarian. 
Every school district in the township could draw from the 
township library a certain number of books, the number 
being prorated according to the number of scholars in the 
district, and when these had been read, they could be ex- 
changed for others. I read very many of these library books, 
and obtained from them much of the knowledge that I to- 
day possess of such subjects as were treated by them. I can 
say of our old township library what cannot be said of some 
of the libraries today, both public and private, that I do not 
believe it contained a single cheap, trashy volume. I doubt 
if today there is any other one thing that exerts so baleful 
an influence upon the minds of our young people as the 
reading of worthless books; and this is all the more to be 
regretted because the full force of this evil habit does not 
seem to be fully comprehended by the parents. 

Again I have wandered. But to come back to the sub- 
ject: Transportation facilities were almost entirely want- 
ing, excepting to those who lived on or near a navigable 
waterway. Until after I was eighteen years old it was thirty- 
two miles to the nearest railroad and that railroad was not 
worthy of the name as compared with the railroads of to- 
day. There was almost no shipping of products excepting 



244 EARLY DAY STORIES. 

such things as could be easily transported. I have known 
fruit to be so plentiful as to have no market value whatever. 
Hogs and cattle were not shipped to market as now but to 
some extent were butchered at home in the winter time and 
the carcasses hauled in sleighs either to the lumber woods 
or to Detroit, a distance of sixty miles. I do not remember 
that there was any grain shipped from our part of the coun- 
try. 

There were many kinds of small manufacturing estab- 
lishments in existence then that we do not have now. Every 
village had its cabinet shop, its cooper shop, its wagon shop 
and its blacksmith shop, where bureaus, bedsteads, chairs, 
wagons and carriages, pork barrels, flour barrels, washtubs, 
churns, axes and many other kinds of tools and furniture 
were made wholly at home. There were also frequent man- 
ufactories of "earthen ware" as it was called, where crocks 
of all kinds and sizes as well as jugs, churns, etc., were made. 
In fact, the people of those times could have almost any- 
thing needed on the farm or in the house made at home. 
There were almost no farming tools brought in from the 
outside for sale excepting scythes, cradles, shovels, spades 
and pitchforks, and even the pitchforks were often made by 
the village blacksmith. The people of those days were self- 
reliant and independent, in which two desirable character- 
istics there has been no advancement to the present time. 



